


Nepenthe

by arnediadglanduath



Series: Black Nebula [1]
Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: ...OK pretty AU, Angeal keeps his head on straight, Angst, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Genesis has it bad, Intersex Characters, M/M, Melancholy Fic, Melancholy does not necessarily mean an unhappy ending...but things get worse before they get better, Mentions of Beastiality (doesn't happen), PTSD, Present and past abuse, Slow Build, Straddling a fine line between canon compliant and total plot deviation, Tags Subject to Change, dubcon elements, somewhat AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 137,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath
Summary: Nepenthe:In Homer's Odyssey it is a drug of 'forgetfulness'; though the literal translation refers to'that which chases away sorrow.'Finding yourself is hard. Falling in love while you're finding yourself is harder. Falling in love while finding yourself while in SOLDIER is probably the literal definition of Hell.





	1. Chapter 1

 

My darling…  
  
You paint me with white wings,   
With feathers, and halos and scriptures and things.  
  
But virtue is something I utterly  lack   
My sweet, my wings are assuredly black.  
  
You say that my lips Herald visions of yore  
With music and beauty spilling in through the door.  
  
My mouth is a cesspool of synchronous lies  
This touch is where kindness and verity dies.  
  
In the fires of my passion, you declare yourself weak  
If my hands had a voice; surely angels would speak!  
  
I’ll string you up gutted and leave you to rot  
Of beauty and harmony; I surely am not.  
  
You insist I'm the essence of finesse and grace  
With the moon and the stars in the depths of my face.  
  
I’m crippled and ruined and tortured within;  
The living embodiment of fasicious sin.  
  
You croon when I flatter with masterful guile  
My simplest gestures can bring you to smile.  
  
But my actions are terribly, horribly blank  
Behind all my coddling; I’m dusty and dank.  
  
Your brightness and wholeness is something quite rare  
With laughter and sunlight and love in the air.  
  
I’m bloody and battered with scars that go miles  
You hang like a puppet; attuned to my wiles.  
  
I've tried every angle, but you insist you won't leave  
And it is for that simple, horrible truth that I grieve.  
  
You can sing my honor and praises ‘till you draw your last breath.  
But I assure you...my beauty…  
  
...I will be your death.

* * *

Most people who knew Genesis Rhapsodos were under the impression he was arrogant, flighty, and somewhat spoiled.

He was, after all, the son of a very wealthy landlord in Banora; one whose name and renown had practically guaranteed him a place in SOLDIER the minute he queued in line to apply. Shikro Rhapsodos was famous for owning the largest apple orchards in all of Mideel, particularly that of the Banora White; whose juice was famous from Running Chocobo to Costa del Sol. The general populace was prone to forget that it was Genesis who had created the original recipe as a child, preferring to credit the task to someone with more fortune and tenuity behind his name. It was, in some ways, a blessing. Genesis had gone into SOLDIER expecting to be forever remembered as the sorry red-headed idiot who invented apple juice. When that wasn't the case, he'd been relieved.

Circinae Rhapsodos was famous for her beauty...something which she possessed in great abundance. Genesis liked to think that he'd gotten his looks from her, but he knew it was fairly unlikely. His mother was soft, curvaceous with an ovular face and amethyst colored eyes that sparkled out from her halo of endless blonde curls. Her hands were tiny and delicate, prone to flutter like butterfly's wings in the throes of death when distressed...pale as the inside of a pearl. She was never overly affectionate...merely indulgent and somewhat simpering. Adversely, his father had gone grey long before Genesis could remember what his hair color was, and his mother often lamented the fact they had no family photos. Shikro was stern and severe, with features like a bird of prey that Genesis often despairingly compared to his own. He was tall and forbidding with a coldness to him that only Sephiroth could rival.

It was this, more than anything, that had made Genesis outgoing, loud, and flamboyant. Sometimes it seemed like he was always in trouble at school; whether for attending in red leathers and not the standard uniform, or for smoking on the roof of the gym and flicking the ashes onto the superintendent...it didn't matter. As long as he wasn't exuding an unemotional shell of human existence, he didn't care how many lashes he got once he got home. It was worth it...to know he could _feel_ something among so many people who didn't seem to feel anything. The private educational facility he'd attended was filled to the brim with posh, tight-laced children with what seemed like no other goal than to make more money than their predecessors. The minute a six-year old girl turned to him and started discussing stocks, he'd screamed and run out of the classroom.

Eventually, his behavior got him placed in public school...and he was thrilled. He was able to attend classes with Angeal; his best friend since childhood, and he was certainly allowed to talk about being a rockstar if it suited him. In truth, he'd never really fit in with anyone else. He had 'friends'...sure. The kind whose contacts you always accidentally 'lost' the minute you graduated...but he was still comfortable. He and Angeal always excelled far beyond their classmates in sports, to the point where it made their peers uncomfortable. And despite his reputation for being a 'slacker' and a 'neer-do-well' at school, Genesis always got above-average grades...to the point where he was constantly being observed for cheating. Being good-looking didn't help them either. Angeal had a plethora of adoring would-be girlfriends who he never went out with for fear of the entirety of the male populace hating him. Genesis was simply _too beautiful_ to warrant any kind of female attention, despite the fact that they giggled and blushed whenever they talked to him. No girl wanted to ask out a man who was prettier than they were. And, sure, he might have plucked his eyebrows in seventh grade… _might_... But that didn't warrant any speculation that he was 'bent' or-in the case of many of his peers' opinions- _'just plain screwy'._

And yes, Genesis had no problem getting into or onto a soft (ish) surface with either gender, but he wasn't a _slut._ Sleeping with one person a month didn't make you a whore, it just made you healthy. SOLDIERS were required to be discreet about their dalliances, especially ones who garnered as much media attention as Genesis. _Discreet_ didn't mean _celibate_ , however, and he took full advantage of that fact. Someone who'd never gotten laid in high school should at least get some action for being Shinra's number two (soon to be number one, fuck you, Sephiroth) poster boy.

There was a rustle from the other side of the conference room and Genesis narrowed his eyes, tapping a gloved finger on the marble table before writing it up as a potential bad habit. He couldn't see much of Sephiroth from beyond the newspaper-and who the hell read _paper_ newspaper anymore?-held in front of his face, but if he could; he was sure that the visage behind it would be that of cold...celibate indifference. Rumor had it that Sephiroth had never slept with anyone.

_"He's married to his job"_ Angeal had said dryly when Genesis commented on the overall unnaturalness of it. _"Besides, even if he is seeing someone, or several someones, is it really any of your business?"_

And no, it wasn't. Genesis huffed and toyed with his earring, wondering why on earth he'd bothered to show up to a meeting an hour early.

_"Because you can't stand the thought of being later than the Moonlit Prince of Shinra"_ a nasty voice whispered in the back of his brain.

Miraculously, Sephiroth had already been sitting in the conference room when he arrived...though at this point, he supposed he really shouldn't be surprised. As a Third, he'd been rather convinced that the General lived in a hidden room off of Debriefing. This was-obviously-not true...but it was still strange to wander into an empty gathering room only to find Sephiroth sitting there looking for all the world like he'd like to become some type of furniture fixture. And-of course-the emerald green stare he leveled Genesis' way indicated his intense disapproval of a fellow SOLDIER standing about with their mouth hanging open. There was a rumor circulating in the lower plate that Sephiroth had once stripped an entire house of a fresh coat of paint by glaring at it for longer than thirty seconds. Genesis privately thought this rumor was hilarious.

Then, of course, you had _Angeal_ who would have been in the room around the same time as Genesis if it weren't for his mentorship of Zack Fair. Genesis never took trainees...he didn't have the patience for it and people were generally too intimidated by him to come up and ask. Sephiroth was reputed to have taken time out of his schedule to assist promising recruits in the past, and he'd _certainly_ spent a large bulk of time hounding Genesis about perfecting his skills...but he had evidently never chosen a specific trainee either. When asked about it, he'd stated that it was _'unprofessional for someone of his status to play favorites'_. Genesis took it as: ' _The entire world thinks I'm some huge, silver pie and they all want a piece of me, the fact that I can say no to an apprentice is frankly relieving and I have no intention of doing otherwise.'_ And that was that.

Angeal had made it to First before Genesis, but that was only because he had a copy of SOLDIER's rules and regulations in his back pocket. Being a SOLDIER was a point of pride for the older man, and Genesis was always careful not to push him too hard when it came to teasing him for his stringent rule-following. He himself had probably broken about fifty rules within the first few months, but he had his name to back him up and he was, frankly, extremely good. That wasn't to say Angeal wasn't good, but Angeal was more to-the-letter when it came to footwork...and he was built like a tank. Genesis liked to improvise, and it caught the attention of his drill sergeants and the people above them. When Angeal had risen through the ranks more quickly than he had, he'd been hurt at first, but his friend had sat him down one late night when he'd drank probably more alcohol than he should have and set him straight.

_"You're not a bad soldier, Genesis. They're grooming you. If you followed directive you wouldn't be in this position. The higher-ups want you as a First as soon as possible, but your superiors know you won't be an asset unless you learn to heel somewhat...otherwise you're just a loose cannon with the potential to destroy the company."_

So...he learned to ' _heel_ ' as Angeal called it...and within another six months he'd been promoted to First.

There was additional shuffling in the corner of his peripheral vision, and Genesis watched as Sephiroth neatly folded his newspaper and turned to look expectantly at the door behind them.

"Anything interesting?" Genesis commented blithely.

Green eyes flickered to look at him before returning their attention to the entrance.

"Nothing of note" was the smooth, impersonal reply.

Biting down a sharp retort, the red-headed SOLDIER leaned back in his chair and listened as voices on the other side of the door became clearer.

Making 'nice' with Sephiroth was kind of like plunging your face into a container of dry ice on a daily to bi-daily basis. The man was unresponsive, calculated, and brooding...though Genesis wasn't entirely sure he could help it. He knew little to nothing about his past, though he and Angeal had both attempted to draw him into conversations involving their childhood together. In retrospect...it didn't seem like that man had had a childhood at all. The toys and gadgets both of them had been privy to in their youth might as well have been alien objects from outer space to Sephiroth. If he hadn't been so dead set on being 'frenemies' with the man, he might have felt sorry for him.

Genesis blinked and watched with a frown as Sephiroth abruptly stood at attention; lapels perfectly straight...hair flowing in a singular waterfall down his back...you'd never have known he was sitting. It was like trying to keep up with a freight train who didn't want anyone to ride it, he reflected grimly, scrambling to echo the General's actions as the door swung open. Over the years, he'd _tried_ to make friends...he really had. But Sephiroth seemed to rebuff any and every attempt to know anyone better than to call them a 'colleague.' Rivalry was the only closeness Genesis had with the man...and he'd take what he could get, despite Angeal's insistence it was unhealthy and obsessive.

"Good to see you both here so early."

The thinly veiled sarcasm in the Director's voice was a commonplace occurrence nowadays. It was hardly a secret that General Sephiroth and Genesis Rhapsodos fought over Shinra's…affections...like buzzards over dead meat. Though, to be fair, Genesis was heading most of the recon effort and Sephiroth was just being himself...if you could call being a _brick wall_ 'yourself'. Genesis blew an errant strand of scarlet hair away from his face and did his best not to scowl too loudly.

Lazard sat down at the head of the table and was quickly flanked by Tseng and another Turk whose name escaped Genesis for the moment. Reeve was the second relevant person in line, and he took a chair next to the chair next to Sephiroth. He was surprised to not see Scarlet, but he supposed she was rather swamped in the Weapons Department, especially considering the whispers of an upcoming war with Wutai. Heidegger wandered in five minutes later, accompanied by Angeal, who was looking decidedly resigned. Genesis spared his friend a nod as he sat down next to him, but they otherwise did not exchange any pleasantries. Other than the immediate queque of important persons, no one else of note made an entrance and the conference room door was shut firmly.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Lazard continued, motioning to Tseng, who procured a briefcase seemingly from nowhere and handed it to the Director. There was a quiet hiss followed by a distinct _ ***'click'*** _ as the latch was disengaged, and then the man was handing sheafs of paper down the table.

"As you can see, we have a crime issue in Sectors 6 and 7."

"That's not so unusual" Genesis said dryly. "And even so, that's a police matter, not a SOLDIER matter."

"And it would continue to be a police matter unless I thought it was absolutely paramount that SOLDIER be involved" Heidegger countered irritably.

"Yes, thank you, Rhapsodos, Heidegger" was the dry reply. Lazard pushed his glasses up and exhaled in a long-suffering, _I've-done-this-fifty-times-today_ way. "The issue isn't _crime_ itself, it's the nature of the crime. We're witnessing three child abductions today, four last week, and three the week before...all in the same area-"

"-Where are the parents of these children?" Angeal interrupted sharply. "Surely you can't be telling us that _ten_ sets of parents were so careless as to allow their children to be taken."

"They aren't being abducted right under their noses, Hewley" Heidegger growled. "These children were taken walking home from school, or playing in that blasted park in Sector 6. And you need to remember that this is a city, not a small town growing blue apples for commerce. Things like this happen every day."

"I will reiterate Commander Rhapsodos' question, then" Sephiroth cut in. " _Why_ are we here?"

"The populace is panicked" Reeve replied, eyeing the silver-haired man steadily. "Whether you find the perpetrators or not, your presence would still be invaluable to preventing unrest."

"You want us to make appearances within the Sectors?" Angeal said doubtfully.

"That, but more subtle" Lazard aceded, leaning back in his chair. "We want you actively participating in this investigation-and I _know_ it's not standard-but all three of you aren't scheduled for anything within the next month, you can afford to earn your payroll doing something for a change. This needs to be subtle, gentlemen. If you're too ostentatious the perps will know you're there for show...and they'll either move to a different sector or stop altogether." He paused and his gaze swept the room impassively. "Commander Raphsodos, you'll be paired alternatively with Commander Hewley and the General on every other day. Hewley, any day you're not with Genesis you will be expected to bring Fair with you and it will count as a training exercise. Sephiroth, when Genesis is not with you you'll be on your own, but expect to be shadowed" the blonde man's eyes flickered briefly to the Turks behind him. "Are there any questions?"

"Do we have any idea of the reasoning behind the abductions?" Sephiroth pressed.

"Children are rarely abducted outside of two reasonings" Tseng replied, speaking for the first time. "One is….assault of various natures...and the other is for a purpose. To either raise them to follow a cause or to attain a means to an end."

"You forgot to mention that five of the ten children are dead" Reeve said dryly.

Genesis snorted and Angeal turned white.

"An...accidental oversight, I'm sure" Sephiroth said icily. "After all, Shinra has such a positive reputation when it comes to working with _children_.”

"That will be enough" Lazard said sharply, two pale pink spots high on his cheeks the only indication of his discomfort. "The cause of death for those five children is unclear, which is why the information was _classified_." He shot a dark look at Reeve upon uttering the last word. "Now ar-"

"-In what condition were the bodies found?" Genesis interrupted, ignoring the murderous look Lazard shot him.

"Always the same" Heidegger muttered. "Left exactly where they were taken, same clothes, not a scratch on them... nothing in their systems. Wouldn't even know they were dead if you didn't look close. Just….not breathing."

The red-headed man nodded pensively, his gaze on the table as he considered the man's statement.

"Any other questions?" the Director asked tightly. When no response was forthcoming, he continued. "Are we all in agreement?" Genesis murmured an assent as his two fellow Firsts did the same. "Good. You'll receive emails regarding your schedules tomorrow, and I fully expect all of you to participate. Meeting dismissed, Heidegger, Reeve, stay a minute so we can discuss that submission over Order 12...the President wants your responses by this evening."

Genesis clenched his teeth and stood to follow Angeal, who had risen a few moments beforehand. He was momentarily surprised to see Sephiroth follow his lead, but shrugged it off and continued to the exit.

"Thought you'd be staying for something like that" the red-headed SOLDIER grumbled once they were out in the hall.

There was a long silence, and he began to resign himself to not receiving a reply

"As dedicated as I am to this company, I have no reason to sit in on a detailed report regarding the President's massive order of Wutain cheese."

Genesis stopped and blinked rapidly, turning to face the other man; who raised a sardonic brow.

"I...guess that wouldn't be your area of expertise" he said disbelievingly.

"No" Sephiroth said, evidently losing his patience and sweeping by him to continue down the hall. "You'd know if you read the tabloids that I'm not partial to coagulated milk protein."

It took several moments for the General's words to sink in...and by then he had already disappeared.

"I don't _like_ you!" Genesis hollered. "What the hell makes you think I'd read tabloids about you?! And who the FUCK cares if you like cheese or not?!"

* * *

 

Sephiroth couldn't understand idle chatter.

People around him did it quite a bit, though for what means to an end was always unclear. Pleasantries were something he comprehended only marginally as a habitual action...like an involuntary muscle twitch. His receptionist often asked him how he was doing, but it seemed like she really wanted to throw him to the floor and copulate violently. She'd have a very hard time doing so, of course, but that didn't stop the scene from playing behind her eyes every time he walked in or out of his office. This kind of look was common among the female and some of the male citizenry regardless of age, race, or status. When he confessed to Lazard he was worried about being overcome by a populace who were painfully incapable of controlling their hormones the man had nearly fallen off his chair laughing. Upon seeing the seriousness of his statement, the Director had assured him that while Shinra didn't mind their SOLDIERS having admirers, assault of any kind was taken very seriously by the company and should anything of the sort happen to him he should report it immediately to Human Resources.

Then you had people like Commander Rhapsodos who couldn't for the life of them understand why he didn't want to _'bang every chick'_ in the vicinity. Sephiroth balked at the thought of having to explain Hojo's order for him never to engage in intercourse with anything, human or not, and instead had to go through the painful ordeal of citing SOLDIER ethics and responsibility towards his position. While it was mildly entertaining to watch Genesis' eyes glaze over in horror as he proceeded to cite Section 22 Order 57, it still made him uncomfortable that he couldn't be entirely honest with his fellow Firsts, no matter what. Instead, he let the rumors circulate that he was simply discreet about his dalliances and had no desire to share his intimate encounters with others.

Interaction was a painful, drawn out ordeal that usually left him with incredulous stares or screams of utmost terror. He would-in the early hours of the morning-reflect indignantly on the fact that he couldn't really help it. Hojo had practically raised him in the lab until he was fourteen, with little to no interaction save for the man's colleagues and himself. He even had his own room in the back of the Diagnostics Lab...if you could even call it a room. Even in his dreams, the texture of the scratchy pallet was embedded into his memory. The walls were solid iron...reinforced 'just in case he threw a fit' as Hojo would always say. It was perpetually cold and dark….thought by the time he was fifteen the amount of mako in his system would render this fact worthless. The pain of the tests he was subjected to faded over time. Hojo was thorough but never lethal, and though the fact that he would live through every ordeal didn't comfort him, it certainly told him that he was valuable. He began his SOLDIER training in brief intervals; snatches of conversation with drill sergeants that seemed to both pity and fear him. At eighteen he was introduced into politics...Lazard visited him to explain diplomatic negotiation and bartering. He had full knowledge of Shinra's innerworkings by the time he turned nineteen and his own room on the President's floor.

It was decided that he would pass through the ranks normally, like any other initiate in order to pass off suspicion. It became quickly apparent that Sephiroth was nothing like his peers, and he was almost instantaneously alienated. He had sharper hearing than some of the Firsts, and was undeniably faster...often leaving his comrades in the dust on missions that should have been a team effort. Sephiroth was also stronger and smarter than the majority of the SOLDIER population, with a hand that could shatter ribs with the flick of a finger and a memory so photographic that there were times he wished he could forget some of the things he had seen. By the time he was twenty one he could beat every simulation in the VR room with his eyes closed. Shinra made him their poster boy, with his face floating on logos and various holo screens on both the upper and lower plate. He was a point of pride for them...and for a while, he was content, but never 'happy.' The concept of happiness escaped him.

When SOLDIERS who were given leave came back tanned and slack-jawed from days spent with their families, he looked on incomprehensibly. Human contact had never been comforting for him. Human contact meant being jabbed with needles, plunged into mako tanks, reciting doctrine...or fending off an attack. Human contact was duty, plain, simple, and cold and he couldn't imagine what anyone saw in it. People feared him and he was alright with that, because it meant that they couldn't slice him open and examine his intestines or strap him down to a gurney and drug him until he couldn't remember what his name was. He visited Hojo as little as possible once he was given his own set of rooms floors away, but he was still forced to go to the labs once a month to be _'evaluated for stability.'_ Sometimes it confused him, because none of the other SOLDIERS were subjected to such rigorous examination...but he knew better than to question it.

The arrival of Angeal and Genesis was a tipping point in his life, though for better or for worse he couldn't say. Both rose through the ranks quickly, faster than any SOLDIER save for himself, and he watched their progress with interest. Angeal was calm, focused and devoted to his cause, something that Sephiroth could certainly respect...but never admire. Genesis was fiery and prone to disobedience, something that irked Shinra to no end. Still, he was willing to improvise where others did not, and he had the wit and the looks to back up his actions. Sephiroth instructed him offhandedly, knowing that his full attention would not be welcomed by someone so prideful. Genesis seemed to take his aid as a challenge, though he never did figure out why. Nevertheless, the three of them were still closer to each other than anyone else in SOLDIER. Angeal was reserved and shy, but fiercely protective of Genesis, and Sephiroth never held it against him. There was something...fragile about the redhead that wasn't apparent in the other man.

There was something about Genesis that constantly nagged at him...though if he was completely honest with himself it wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling. Those mako-blue eyes were full of spirit, and there was never more life in them than when they were sparring or arguing. So when Genesis had come back from the VR room with a black eye, a split lip, three broken ribs and a riotous grin, Angeal had practically shrieked that they obviously both enjoyed _'beating the ever-loving shit'_ out of each other, _'whether verbally or physically'_  and that he wouldn't have any part in their _'rampant and chronic stupidity.'_ It was the first time Sephiroth had ever heard Angeal scream _'like a girl'_ as Genesis would say, though he assured him it wasn't the first time it had ever happened; it was also the first time that anyone had insisted he might be mentally incapacitated. He was forced to grudgingly admit that he was-for once in his life-enjoying something. Despite the fact that they constantly butted heads, they got along rather well outside of the public eye, and Sephiroth began to tentatively think of his two fellow Firsts as friends. Genesis was inconsistent and prone to distemper, but he was loyal and for the most part honest...and Angeal was probably the best friend anyone could ever ask for but Sephiroth wasn't emotional enough yet to acknowledge that as a fact.

"A Zackary Fair to see you, sir."

The reason his Secretary had to pitch her voice two octaves lower and add a roll to it that sounded like she had a mouthful of felt in his presence would forever escape him. He knew for a fact that she had a standard lower plate accent that was practically earsplitting when she was talking on the phone, though now that he thought about it, perhaps she did it in consideration of his auditory function.

"Thank you Lailah, send him in please."

Leaning back in his chair, Sephiroth surveyed the mess of paperwork on his desk with a feeling of resigned despair. Being the poster-boy of Shinra may have had its perks, but it also had its downsides. Mainly, receiving forms from executives who felt they were too good to fill them out themselves. Most of his work centered in field reports, whether it be critiquing that of a lower class SOLDIER who had handed it in or approving a survey for an upcoming encampment, it didn't really matter. Once it went across his desk it went up to Lazard, who was rumored to bathe with his paperwork to save himself time. From there it went to President Shinra who probably had a secretary look over it for him. Personal reports were the worst, because while he might have a photographic memory, no one else cared to know that they arrived at 'X' location at 2:45:33 where it was raining moderately and the mud under his boots appeared to be of a clay origin. People also didn't want to know the minuscule details in which their loved ones had perished, down to blood spatter...it was the main reason Lazard didn't let him write to families whose men had died under his watch anymore.

"Sir, Commander Hewley sent me up to give you the VR report."

"Just yours, or your whole platoon?" Sephiroth said calmly, taking the report and scanning the summary with a sinking feeling. "Sit down" he added wearily, watching as the cadet sank into one of the armchairs facing his desk.

"Uh, well sir, it was just going to be mine but Angeal seemed to think you wouldn't mind." The dark-haired SOLDIER squirmed uncomfortably. "He mentioned that the Firsts have a mission coming up."

Sephiroth paused, halfway through the thick stack of papers in front of him.

"Are you asking me or are you telling me?" he said mildly.

"Oh, well, asking, sir!" Zack said eagerly.

The General smirked briefly before looking down at the reports and shaking his head.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask Angeal about it" he said calmly. "Now, deliver half of these to Commander Rhapsodos and tell him that I've gone to dinner."

The younger man paled.

"Ah...but-sir-I don't think-" Sephiroth raised a brow and the younger man gulped and jumped out of his seat, taking the proffered reports. "Yes sir, right away sir!"

The silver-haired man waited until the cadet was out of his office before letting out a small chuckle. Genesis would be livid about receiving the extra work, but couldn't technically say no to it as his subordinate. He almost pitied Zack. Rising, he checked the time and made some semblance of order out of his desk before dismissing Lailah. He then waited his usual allotted 'ten minutes to avoid assault' before exiting the office himself. The cafeteria was a floor down, and while he might normally have gone out to eat on a night like this, he didn't particularly feel like putting up a hood and ducking around corners to avoid the populace. He placed his order to go, noting the hungry stares of several executives that promised more paperwork should he attempt to eat there in peace.

"Make that two, Nila dear" came a sickly sweet voice at his side. "Cut all that gravy though, you know what it does to me."

Someone lesser than Sephiroth might have cringed at the murderous look on Genesis face. As such, the General merely shivered inside and hoped beyond hope that his dinner wouldn't get cold before the Commander stopped yelling. To his surprise-and dread-Genesis said and did nothing, preferring to stand next to him as the cafeteria staff prepared their lunches and put them in styrofoam carryout tins. The only indication that the man was upset was the occasional twitch of his lower lip...to the left...a quirk that Sephiroth had observed several months after their first meeting. Most of Genesis face was obscured by his hair in any case, making it nearly impossible to tell what he could be planning. When Nila handed over their twin plastic bags, his red-leather hands curled perhaps a little too tightly at first, but quickly let go.

It was-of course-too much to hope that Genesis was merely punishing him with silence.

The redhead followed Sephiroth into the elevator and out into the hallway to his rooms, waiting patiently while he unlocked the door and stepped aside so he could enter first. This wasn't so uncommon. All of them had eaten in the others' quarters at some point. Under these circumstances however, he was positively dreading it. His living space was spacious but simple, with a kitchenette to the left of the entry and a lounge to the right. Directly ahead were two bedrooms with an interconnecting bathroom; the one on the left being Sephiroth's. At one point, he'd allowed Angeal to take the guest room while he was recovering from one of Hojo's 'treatments', but it otherwise remained empty and he didn't really know why he had it. Everything was updated, of course; with chrome cooking surfaces and soft pleather furniture. The colors ranged from silver, to black, to grey...with the occasional splash of color from a commemorative plaque or trophy. Sephiroth didn't much care for material items, but they still gave the room a more 'lived in' atmosphere. The only personal picture he had was a small eight inch frame of himself, Genesis, and Angeal after a sparring session. One of the cadets passing by had taken it for them and they'd each gotten a copy. He wasn't sure what the other two had done with theirs but he liked to think they had framed them too. Only Genesis was smiling in the snapshot, but it seemed fitting somehow.

"Would you like a drink?" Sephiroth asked, watching as the redhead made himself comfortable on his couch and opened his takeout.

"What I would like, is my evening back!" Genesis snapped, finally speaking before picking up a shovelful of rice.

"You'll have to take that up with Angeal" the silver-haired man said slyly. "He's the one who sent the assignments, after all."

"Yeah, he sent them to you."

"I don't see the issue" Sephiroth replied, leaning down to snatch a bottle of water from the fridge. "You're not supposed to complain about paperwork descent, especially from those who outrank you."

"Angeal doesn't outrank you, so why'd you take half his paperwork?" Genesis replied snarkily. Sephiroth opened his mouth to deliver a retort only to realize he didn't have one. Blue eyes widened as the older man realized he'd gotten the upper hand without even trying. "Gaia, did you let me have that one?!"

"Yes" Sephiroth lied, sitting down opposite the Commander and busying himself with his takeout.

"You're lying!" was the gleeful response. Sephiroth tried to ignore the irritated blush that rose to his cheeks. "And you're mad! Oh, forget it! I'd do that paperwork twice just to see this again!"

Sephiroth imagined a painful death for the potato wedges on his plate while Genesis made contented noises through whatever he was eating. Just as he was getting his appetite back, his pager rang. Halfway through an heirloom tomato, the silver-haired man paused and fished around in his pockets while his dinner companion looked on with a slightly dreamy expression.

The Caller ID indicated it was Tseng, which more than likely heralded a quick end to his meal.

"General Sephiroth here" he said tightly.

"Sephiroth, we've got a problem in Sector Six" the Turk replied, wasting no time with pleasantries. "Three of the five remaining missing children have been recovered...but...we've had to confiscate the bodies."

"They're dead then" he said calmly, earning a raised brow from Genesis.

"Yes...by all appearances they are. It looks as if they were...experimented on; whoever did it got further with them than with the others."

A wave of indignant fury that was deeply personal surged through him before he pushed it down.

"What do you need me for?"

"We need all three of you" Tseng said irritably. "For crowd control..it was a civilian who found that bodies and they haven't kept quiet about it."

"Very well, where?"

"The usual, meet at the entrance between sectors five and six. We'll be there."

Sephiroth snapped the pager shut without replying and allowed himself a moment of remorseful staring at his dinner. Genesis was quick on the uptake and whisked both takeouts away to the trash compressor before either of them could get too worked up about it.

"I'll page Angeal" the redhead muttered, calling Rapier and clipping it to his belt. "You ought to key us out or they'll think we've gone AWOL."

The general nodded shortly and swung about to log onto the company access computer. Once that was done, he followed Genesis out into the hall.

"If it's any consolation, I didn't think we'd be doing this all night instead of paperwork" Sephiroth commented blithely.

"Fuck all, Seph" Genesis groaned, rolling his eyes. "I don't give a shit about the paperwork. Are you going to fill me in?"

Both of them watched as Angeal came jogging around the corner with the Buster Sword strapped to his back.

"Might as well wait until we're all here" he replied, narrowing his eyes by way of greeting as Genesis waved enthusiastically.

"...It seems like it's going to be a long evening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Some notes here, before we get too deeply into this. This is probably going to be a little different from some of the FFVII fics you are used to reading. For one, I'm vested in keeping the characters their actual ages and not turning them into teenagers. Fanlore majority places Sephiroth around 27-28 years of age by the time of FFVII, and Genesis is emphasized to be at _least_ a year or two older, making him 29-30. We'll stick with 29. So, for posterity, Seph: 28 Genesis: 29 Angeal: 30 Zack: 24 Cloud:17 Aerith: 26
> 
> I am going to try to remain canon-compliant up to a point. I will have to embellish some points in order to remain true to the goal of this fic, which is to ultimately get Genesis and Sephiroth together, and to provide a window into their lives beyond the discovery of their origins and how they deal with it. There will also be no Zack/Angeal, in this fic. I know some of you are big fans of them, but I do want to have some heterosexual couples instead of making everyone completely same-sex oriented.
> 
> You're probably going to be given an angle of the characters that isn't very common; mainly a slightly more 'humanized' Sephiroth and a not-so-loveless-quoting Genesis. I have written in a decent amount of fandoms at this point, so switching characterizations is somewhat of a challenge. If you feel I'm straying too far from their original personas, please let me know. That being said, I like to think that a non-degrading (not a word) Genesis was somewhat less inclined to spout poetry hither and thither. 
> 
> On the use of the term 'melancholy fic'...it's exactly what it is. We're going to be looking at a sort of greyish undertone plot-wise, where we get to see how Sephiroth 'grew up' and in what conditions, and how Genesis handles the fact that his parents aren't really his parents, but that will come much later. This is not going to be a short fic, at all. It's been something I've been dying to do ever since reading Angelic Threnody, though this fic will wildly differ from that one (no time travel, no established relationship, etc.) 
> 
> **Personal Update:** I'm still working on An Acceptably Wrinkled Timeline. I've only just gotten out of the hospital after major surgery, and finding my feet has taken quite a while. I also went back and read the entire series over again because something was niggling me. I can't guarantee an update soon, but I wanted to assure you I've not abandoned that fic in favor of this one.
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	2. Chapter 2

The minute he'd set eyes on Midgar, Genesis had vowed to spend as little time below plate as possible.

It wasn't that he had any disdain for the homeless and destitute-not anymore in any case-it was the fact that the mere idea of being so far from the sun was terrifying. In Banora, he and Angeal had wiled away their time under blue skies and white clouds. The fact that some people in the slums went their entire lives without seeing the sky was baffling. That being said, he sometimes considered it a miracle that some of the populace witnessed daylight at all. Criminal syndicates charged hefty 'ascendance' fees, and Shinra did little to stop them beyond weekly 'fines.' Slummers caught on the Upper Plate were usually arrested 'on suspicion of criminal activity' and returned forthwith. Genesis loved being a SOLDIER but some of Shinra's policies were just plain nasty.

Surveying the dilapidated park Tseng had led them to, he couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for the state of Midgar at present. SOLDIER was ultimately the reason the company's heads were still alive, and Firsts like Genesis, Angeal, and Sephiroth were major figureheads in Shinra's agenda. It didn't do much good to dwell on it, and if he ever confessed such thoughts to Angeal the man would smugly comment that he was 'growing up' or some similar trash. No, a job was a job, and he'd worked hard to get where he was. No matter how he felt about the management, he still had his pride. Removing himself from his thoughts with effort, Genesis was mildly disconcerted to catch Sephiroth eyeing him oddly. It wasn't a malevolent or mocking look, merely considering. Catching the General's attention while on duty was no small thing, and he didn't like to consider what it might entail. Turning his attention to the park, Genesis pushed the ingrained disgust he felt at its obviously dilapidated state to the wayside. Instead, he concentrated on the chalk lines marking where each child had been found.

 _"Body"_ he reminded himself mentally. _"Not a child, a body."_

For a brief moment, he was glad Angeal was speaking with the populace instead of him; he cleared his throat.

"Evidence?"

"None" Tseing replied tonelessly. "The areas around each body were cleared and cleaned with top-grade disinfectant; enough to scour but not enough to launch an inquiry with purveyors. Each victim was groomed and washed to a point of sanitation they could never have achieved at home, and no hair was found on the bodies but their own. One individual had mako residue coalescing in a mutation but it is unclear if this was a natural or unnatural occurrence."

"It rains mako here?" Genesis asked incredulously.

"Atmospheric phenomenon from the reactors release small amounts of processed mako, yes."

"And the chalk?"

"What of it?"

The redheaded soldier frowned and worried his lip.

"They're...accurate markings?"

For the first time, Tseng's mask slipped from one of detached professionalism to that of weariness.

"I wish I could speculate otherwise" he said heavily.

"This is your field, isn't it?" Sephiroth said, a thin veil of irritation lacing his tone. "We're trained for combat and I see none."

"Lazard wants our departments working in tangent to solve this, we're making no headway" Tseng countered, his tone once more distant and cold. "The Science Department is equally involved."

"Well that's a first" Genesis commented. "A Turk admitting defeat."

"There is a difference between defeat and needing extra manpower" was the frigid response. "If I must sink so low as to flatter you, I would remind you that your mental capacity is greatly enhanced by mako and would therefore make processing information far swifter a task."

"Flattery won't help you here" Sephiroth replied, already turning on heel. "Inform the director I have resigned from his… _mission."_ He spat the last word out like a curse before casting a somewhat derisive but mostly pained look back at the playground. "Who kidnaps a child from on top of a slide?"

For once at a loss for words, Genesis mouthed incredulously at the General's back as he disappeared behind towering piles of scrap metal and was gone. He'd never seen the man have such a visceral response to anything. Under different circumstance in a different time he might have assumed Sephiroth was pulling rank and leaving the job to those 'beneath' him. He knew better now, of course. By his side, Tseng was equally silent, but it was an observant and calculating silence, not a surprised or disbelieving one. This wasn't particularly unusual. High-ranking Shinra operatives always seemed to know more about Sephiroth than they were willing to say. The man in question was equally close-mouthed as to why, and Genesis suspected that he knew little more than what tabloids and administration demanded...he had learned quickly not to pry. Sephiroth rarely showed any strong emotions; as far as his track history went, this had been a veritable shouting match.

"Unless you had something to add, I think I'll see how Angeal is doing" Genesis muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Tseng, who jerked his head in a noncommittal manner.

"If you could attempt to sway the General, it would be greatly appreciated."

The redhead snorted.

"Nothing's going to change Sephiroth's mind but Sephiroth. I'd be better off repeatedly running myself into the Plate supports and hoping the city collapsed."

Tseng's lip twitched.

"Treasonous talk that is, but the mental picture makes up for it." He turned and began to walk away. "Thank you for your time, Commander."

"Yeah, sure" he replied, watching as the Turk melted into the darkness.

Casting another glance over the playground, Genesis couldn't help but feel uneasy. The shadows that collected under and around the swing-set seemed ominous and resentful, as if conscious of the fact they never saw sunlight. The park was devoid of color, a stark contrast to fact that it had obviously been built for children. Crudely yet surely painstakingly shaped animal caricatures only added to the dismal mockery of things meant for youth. Reno had once explained to him that children born in the slums were rarely allowed a childhood. The only ways to proceed were _'up, crooked, or dead.'_ He'd been lucky to catch the eye of the Turks young, and while there were plenty of things in his line of work he didn't agree with, it was better than being stuck a hood rat.

Drawing up his hood, Genesis turned away from the seemingly eternally bright halogen park lights and made a swift path into the late-night streets. Shinra was rather notorious for recruiting those from less-fortunate backgrounds. People who were grateful were less-likely to ask questions and carried an almost unshakable loyalty to their 'saviors.' Individuals with nondescript backgrounds were also easier to...'dismiss' should they get nosy. The rich elitists had their ins and outs too, of course, but access came with mountains of privacy contracts and legal bindings. Genesis had lost count of the amount of paperwork he'd had to wade through to become a SOLDIER. He still got the occasional legal notice every few weeks and his Discrepancy Contract renewed every six months. He was also pretty sure his likeness was copyrighted for the duration of his service, but that was to be expected as a First.

Sidestepping a puddle of some unnameable substance, Genesis vaulted over a large sewage intake pipe; landing in a balanced crouch overtop a modest but very empty water distribution tank. It made a hollow, bereft sort of resonance under his boots as he stood to somewhat gather his bearings. It was easy to get turned around below-plate, even with mako enhancements and years of training. The layout of the slums constantly changed; houses made of scrap metal and refuse were easy to move, and hazardous living conditions made it nearly impossible to set up permanent residence. Even above-plate the reactors gave off an immense amount of noise and heat; here, without dampeners and shields, the air was cloyingly rank and buzzing with irradiated energy. Disorientation was common among non-natives...for SOLDIERS it was rather worse.

Just when he was considering scaling a support beam to the surface, his phone received a text from Angeal with specified coordinates. The missive included a rather mournful statement indicating that while the populace wasn't happy, they were, for the moment, mollified. A small transport chopper was waiting for them not far from either of their locations, but the pilot refused to wait very long due to the late hour and the 'hazards of the environment.' The cry of an approaching Allemagne gave Genesis pause, but he ignored the sound in favor of haste. Monsters that strayed into the slums were supposedly 'law enforcement' responsibility, but dispatch often fell to civilian or street gangs. SOLDIER was only called out for Behemoths, Golems, Dragons, or worse. An Allemagne was a considerable threat, but not enough to warrant SOLDIER intervention, let alone the intervention of a First.

The pilot was irritable and jumpy when Genesis arrived, and it took him drawing Rapier and prowling around the chopper like some murderous beast before he'd even consider waiting for Angeal. This earned him a hairy eyebrow when the man in question jogged up five minutes later.

"Waiting on a Marlboro?" he asked casually.

Genesis cursed and gestured for Angeal to climb up as the pilot went white and started to ascend without preamble. His friend muttered an apology as he settled into his seat after a near-miss grab for the landing skids. Waving his contrition away, the redhead sheathed Rapier and watched the slums disappear into a smoky, lumpy mass of shapes beneath them. They were flown to the Easternmost airway exit and given clearance to proceed by an exhausted-looking trio of Thirds. Genesis was startled to see the sun rising over HQ in a blaze of chrome and scarlet; he hadn't thought they were gone _that_ long.

"Took us forever to get down there" Angeal grumbled as if reading his thoughts. "Lucky they sent a bird to pick us up."

Genesis managed to voice an inarticulate sound of assent, his insides shriveling as he considered the mountain of work waiting on his desk. He was surprised to see Sephiroth waiting for them on the landing pad, looking for all the world like he hadn't spent the night in the slums. The pilot-having failed to offer nothing even-so-much as his name-took off the minute they disembarked.

"Tseng wants you back on the mission" Genesis remarked as the sound of rotors faded away.

A silver brow rose sardonically as the three of them turned in unison to head back into HQ. Angeal shot a confused glance at Genesis behind Sephiroth's back.

'Temper tantrum' the redhead mouthed.

"I heard that" the General muttered. "I don't see how my skills will aid in an investigation of this caliber" he said in a tone that brokered no further questions.

Genesis shrugged as his childhood friend rolled his eyes in a despairing sort of way.

"Do you think we'll get the morning off?" he asked idly, redirecting the conversation.

"Unlikely" Angeal chuckled, palming the access doors that would take them up to Residential.

The lift doors clattered to a halt and Genesis sighed resignedly as the doors shut behind them. A pre-recorded notice began to play on a loop; informing them of staff rotation and wage forms that were due the next day. The overhead lights flickered as the lift began to move and Genesis jumped as Sephiroth cleared his throat.

"I finished the report you sent up" he informed Angeal.

"Zack told me you fielded half of it to Genesis" the dark-haired man said confusedly.

If Genesis hadn't been so tired he was pretty sure he'd have fallen over at the General's reply.

"Genesis was kind enough to stay behind to complete our meeting with Tseng while I dealt with an...urgent matter. The least I could do was complete the report."

The elevator chimed as the lift stopped in front of a hallway that led into Business and Accounting, and Sephiroth spared them both a nod before walking out. There was complete silence save for when their phones went off in unison with a message from Lazard. As Residential came into view, Angeal spoke.

"When you've pulled your chin off the floor, you'll be happy to know we have the morning off." Genesis swallowed and blinked as the doors slid open and his friend began to step through before pausing. "For what it's worth, I think he really considers you a friend."

Watching as the Buster Sword retreated down the hallway...Genesis couldn't help but wonder if he might be right.

* * *

 

Sephiroth didn't know what had possessed him to finish the paperwork he'd so resolutely handed over to Genesis.

Gazing at the flowing, mahogany grain of his desk, he decided it must have been debilitating hunger. He hadn't finished dinner and the trek down to the slums had been long and full of Loveless. While his sometimes seemingly involuntary recitations of antiquated poetry had ceased somewhat; Genesis was still prone to break into verse when he was bored. It wasn't so much a nuisance as it was a distraction. SOLDIER hearing made it difficult to drown out background noise, no matter how useful it might be in the field. Angeal often lamented the fact that while mako enhancements were exciting and useful, there was no way to turn them off. Sephiroth couldn't remember a time when he didn't seem to have superior faculties to everyone else, but he was still inclined to agree. During a field-training mission with a bunch of initiates, he'd been forced to confront a single cadet who sang rather too loudly in the communal showers. It was-he had found-incredibly difficult to explain to someone that vocalizations in a tiled space made his brain feel like it was exploding without sounding like he was accusing the man of being a bad singer.

Sephiroth's comm beeped, reminding him of his monthly appointment with Hojo, and he rose to his feet with a barely suppressed sigh. Wondering about his sudden act of irrevocable charity wasn't getting him anywhere. He'd see Genesis by midday and by then he'd have had time to compile a stack of paperwork twice as large to give to his poetically-minded comrade and they'd be back on even footing.

Lailah barely spared him more than a simpering smile upon his entry into her office space and he was glad for it. Lazard had evidently sent most of the assisting staff an abnormally large amount of paperwork regarding tax returns that was so convoluted even Angeal couldn't figure it out. Most of the 'good mornings' he'd received so far had been mournful and resigned. Passing what appeared to be a paper-laden apprentice, Sephiroth took a sharp right to the elevator; selecting the floor to the Science Division and stepping back. Most of HQ was a rather convoluted spiral of offices and apartments that started from the President's floor and descended according to rank before spreading out like a giant skirt in all directions until it reached the civilian section of the city. There was little to no decoration on the walls of business and science-related floors; though it was rumored the Turk Division was considered the liveliest of the lot.

SOLDIER barracks were commonly stationed at the very base of the main structure; with barracks and bunks leading inwards and training, simulation, and rank-up arenas to the left and right. Seconds supervised newly initiated Thirds a floor above, and Firsts were given accommodation directly below-or, in Sephiroth's case, on-the President's floor. High-ranking officers sometimes chose to purchase homes outside of Shinra facilities, but such instances were rare and the few that did so were retired or very close to retiring. The bulk of the company's employee count were office grunts who could figure numbers and statements well but didn't ask questions. They _did_ go home in the evening; and it was always strange to wander those subdivisions late at night. Everything about Shinra was chrome and steel; with arcing...forbidding pathways and the blue-green hiss of continuously processed mako. Sephiroth's earliest memories were imbued with the scent of new plastic, sterilized metal, antiseptic and the almost adhesive-like aroma of new carpet... the few calming recollections he possessed were of looking out through glass onto the maze of sparkling pipes and red banners from a great height.

It was industrial, impersonal and distant...but it was still home.

The elevator doors slid open on oiled hinges, and Sephiroth hesitated only a fraction of a second before stepping inside. The Science Department was below ground, as Hojo insisted many of his subjects were sensitive to sunlight, even through layers of impermeable metal. Sephiroth knew it was more due to the fact that Hojo participated in experiments of unspeakable nature and didn't want to get caught in the public eye. All Shinra-approved...of course; simply not discussed. The lift slowed to a halt and he gripped the leather-clad inside of his right palm for a moment; letting it snap back before he stepped out and strode down the hall. Here, the lighting was dim but not unpleasant; the white-fabric walls reflecting a bluish-ivory hue from circular, inlaid wall installments. To anyone without mako enhancements they would have been just on the side of inconveniently dim, but for a SOLDIER they were just right. Most of the labs were similarly lit behind large glass panels adorned in white lettering. Screens could be pulled for when visual ambience needed to be adjusted per individual space; and each scientist had a shielded workstation with the latest in scientific technology. The cloth-laden walls in the halls hid several layers of sound-resistant foam; one of the few things Sephiroth cherished about coming back. It was blessedly quiet.

Hollander was responsible for most of what Hojo would call 'unnecessary comforts.' He was conspicuously careful about making sure his patients were well cared for; especially those who had just come out of mako treatment. His offices and labs were to the left...Sephiroth took a right. As far as he knew, he was the only SOLDIER who Hojo would willingly see on a regular basis, though he knew it was more out of possessiveness than anything. Shinra's Head Scientist was more concerned with developing new methods of making SOLDIERS stronger, more agile and less easy to tire. Sephiroth had been the subject of approximately thirty-six of these experiments that he knew of and very few were successful. The mortality rate of his other test subjects was rumored to be at 99% with the rest becoming unspeakable versions of themselves that were eventually released into the Wastes once tissue samples were taken and they were marked as 'deceased.'

'Welcome, Sephiroth.'

Hojo's section of the lab was decidedly less attractive, facial recognition identification system aside. It was accessed through a set of sliding glass doors similar to that of the main lab, but that was where the similarities tapered off. Hojo's labs were devoid of sound-proofing and instead made use of easy-to-sanitize surfaces like chrome and steel. The lab techs still had their individualized booths but they were not domed and some of the equipment was in testing phase and not legalized for release. At the rear of the lab was a set of double doors that swung open onto two open-floor areas; one medical and one operative, both brightly lit. There were two standard-size mako tanks in the corner; one filled with raw, unprocessed mako and the other with processed. Beyond this was a massive file room that was nearly floor-to-ceiling with Hojo's research, all under lock and key. Furthermore was a set of steel blast doors that could only be opened by Hojo and a few techs. Sephiroth knew that behind them was a series of massive holding cells for whatever experiment the good doctor was working on at the time. One of those cells had been his old room. He'd never seen any of Hojo's experiments, but he often heard them...

None of the techs paid him any mind as he strode through the entryway, not pausing to look at what they were working on. He had found on several occasions that ignorance of Hojo's activities was sometimes best. The man in question was waiting impatiently by the medical table in the subsequent room; his gaze distracted and out of focus. Sephiroth allowed himself a minimal iota of relaxation. If Hojo's mind was on something else, it meant he'd likely not keep him for long.

"You know the drill" was the irritated bark as the screen was pulled around them; two circular examination lamps were brought close and turned to maximum.

Settling crosswise on the table, Sephiroth unbuckled his vambraces and undressed from the waist up without replying; his actions tempered and methodical. He had removing his clothes down to a numbered science; and in situations like this...it kept him sane. Here under these lights he felt corporeal and unstable; as if his skin was too pale and his eyes too large. The hairs on his body rose involuntarily...something he'd never been able to control...something which gave Hojo an immense pleasure in mocking him over. The buzz of the intense heat and electricity was overwhelming and unpleasantly nostalgic. He held himself perfectly still as the otoscope was directed into his ears, refusing to blink or encourage any kind of reprimand. Next Hojo briefly tested his reflexes before looking into his mouth and checking the elasticity of his dermis. General vitals were next, along with a routine blood test and hair samples. It wasn't until the scientist moved to his eyes that he paused and frowned, putting his penlight down, throwing back the privacy screen, and crossing the room to grab what Sephiroth knew were his charts.

"Any nausea or dizziness?" he snapped, pushing his glasses up.

Startled at the direct query, Sephiroth cleared his throat.

"No" he said quietly.

"Paranoia? Vomiting? Delusions?"

"No."

"Any impulsive or irrational behavior?"

Sephiroth hesitated, his abrupt dismissal of an executive-issued mission and his sudden act of irrational kindness towards a suboordinate niggling at the edges of his psyche. Hojo's eyes narrowed at him over the top of his clipboard.

"...No."

The answering scoff plunged his hopes of being dismissed quickly into complete and utter disrepair. Hojo strode back to the table and palmed a blood sample before disappearing into the forefront of the lab. Sephiroth took the time he had alone to try and assess what the doctor could possibly have seen in his eyes, but came up with nothing. He looked in the mirror very rarely and any non-drastic physical changes would have escaped his notice. He was meticulous...but he wasn't vain. It was some time before Hojo returned, and by then Sephiroth was almost frantic. Thoughts of being thrown back into his cell had crossed his mind over and over, along with being given a lethal injection and tossed into the Wastes. Worse, his cerebral faculties whispered of disembowelment _'for the sake of science'_...or being forced to spend months in a tub of unprocessed mako while his limbs slowly boiled away. When the lab doors swung open he flinched and crossed his arms. Hojo seemed, if possible, even more bored and possibly more irritated.

"You're going through a belated hormonal anomaly" he snapped.

Sephiroth blinked.

"Meaning…"

"Meaning your endocrine glands are working overtime to produce signaling molecules. It's not an externally reaching factor, which essentially means it falls under puberty."

"But I've already been through that, haven't I?" Sephiroth demanded.

Hojo raised an eyebrow.

"Do you remember anything like this?"

He thought hard and couldn't come up with anything that would back up his point.

"...No."

"Then you haven't been through it." Hojo scowled and pushed up his glasses again. "I don't think I need to go over this with you again, but I will, for disclosure clauses. You are not to engage in intercourse with anyone, regardless of sex, no matter how strong your urges are. If you feel the need to engage in inter-species coitus you will report back here and be administered a sedative until such urges pass-"

"-I don't understand why I'm differen-"

"-Because Shinra _owns_ you, boy!" Hojo roared, finally losing his temper. "Your mother left you here to be molded into what you are today and I will not have you jeopardizing yourself for the sake of _fucking_ something or being fucked!" The hand that slammed down onto the countertop full of metal surgical equipment was expected, but he jumped anyway and hated himself for it. "Now, you know what's expected of you, _are you going to do it?!"_

Sephiroth only managed to not curl his fingers into fists by letting them dig into his thighs.

"Yes" he muttered.

"Yes _who?_ "

"Yes _sir"_ he replied through gritted teeth.

"Good" a needle bearing enough mako to kill a fully conditioned Second was jabbed into his neck. "You know better than to ask questions, now get out of my lab."

It was only through years of disciplined training that Sephiroth didn't stagger out of every meeting with Hojo like a beaten dog. That being said, he did walk quite a bit faster than normal, earning him several curious glances from the lab techs. By the time he'd reached the elevator he was feeling somewhat more composed, but not by much. The blue lights that were sometimes soothing were now only a reminder of why he didn't come to this floor unless he absolutely had to. Footsteps ahead gave him pause, and he cursed inwardly as a shock of bright red hair cavorted violently towards the lift before pausing when it caught sight of him. He sighed inwardly as Genesis waved once before popping off an exaggerated salute and standing at attention. Sephiroth was almost in a bad enough mood to make him stay that way, but relented as he saw that his friend's grin was entirely in jest and not jealousy.

"At ease, Commander" he muttered.

"Hojo in his usual loving mood I see" was the snide response.

"It's protocol" Sephiroth snapped as they stepped into the lift.

He looked on impassively as Genesis eyed him up and down.

"Mhmm, that's why your eyes look like you've stuffed yottawatts behind them, right?" When Sephiroth didn't reply, he 'tsked' and shook his head. "Asking questions?"

He _almost_ flushed.

"It was a fair question" he replied tonelessly.

"Come back to mine and we'll have a Tonberry." Genesis eyed him skeptically. "I'll have a Tonberry and you can have ten" he corrected himself. The elevator reached Residential and they were accosted by several harried-looking shareholders who appeared to be in the middle of an argument. None of them seemed to notice they were in the presence of the General and Commander, and both men quietly slid into the hallway outside without another word. "C'mon."

Residential was a little cheerier than the rest of HQ; if you called looking out onto what would have been a seemingly endless drop through spotless glass 'cheery.' First Class quarters hugged the opposite wall at staggered intervals; nondescript in stainless steel and glittering placards displaying name plates. Genesis' quarters did not have a placard and though the man insisted it was to remain _'mysterious'_ Sephiroth knew it was for privacy. He'd never once seen the man bring a bed partner back to his quarters and he was somewhat paranoid about who saw him come and go. That being said, the inside of his living space was an entirely different story. Watching as the redhead swiped his keycard, Sephiroth forced himself not to flinch as he was accosted by a vibrant sea of scarlet and ivory. Most of Genesis' appliances were red, his counter space an irritatingly cohesive white. The same emergency-oriented colors were staggered about the living space in various intervals.

Unlike Sephiroth's quarters, his friend's space was one large room; with the bed hidden by a hanging curtain...the bathroom being the only separate facility. Genesis had once confessed that his loft-like living space was somewhat of an art project. Anyone who knew the Commander beyond a professional basis could see why. Shina's red-headed 1st had an eye for savoir, despite being as deadly as any high-ranking officer. Nobody could take away the fact that there was no SOLDIER more intelligent or educated than Genesis save for Sephiroth. As quick as he was to lose his temper, he was also brilliant in the field, especially considering raising morale.

Settling himself on a wall-clinging divan that might as well have been screaming; Sephiroth resigned himself to at least an hour of conversation. Absentmindedly, he began to worry the center of his leather-clad palm as Genesis smashed glasses together in the kitchen. He had no idea what Hojo's diagnosis entailed. Contrary to what the scientist appeared to believe, he didn't feel the urge to lay physical claim to anything or anyone. He knew-of course-where everything was supposed to go in ways of anatomy. Despite his lack of experience in physical intimacy, he had a vast plethora of knowledge when it came to human biology. No, whatever the man had discerned, it was likely of little to no effect. Moreover, Sephiroth was nearly thirty; he was too old to go through any type of hormonal phenomena...let alone puberty.

"Stop that."

A pale, long-fingered hand grasped his gloved one firmly; halting Sephiroth's steadily accelerating snapping motion. The man in question blinked and exhaled wearily. Genesis released him, his expression half-smiling... nearly sympathetic. Turning, he plucked two shots of pale amber liquid from a tray and passed one over.

"I know your stipend could cover about a thousand of those leather finger traps, but you really need a better mako recovery mechanism."

"Apologies" Sephiroth muttered, raising the glass to his lips.

Genesis clucked his tongue mournfully as he flopped into an armchair opposite him.

"I'm not asking for an apology" he said breezily, waving his free hand through the air. There was silence for perhaps fifteen minutes as they each wallowed in their individual misery. " _My friend, the Fates are cruel,_ but Shinra can be far crueler" Genesis sighed. He smirked and tilted his head. "Hollander's complaining because my sperm count is low" a derisive snort followed this bizarre declaration. "He says I've got to _'stop being a philanderer or I'll never reproduce.'_ Like I'm ever going to want kids, give me a break!"

"At least you're not going through puberty" Sephiroth muttered, his tongue loosened as it hopelessly chased a fifth glass of sense and reasoning into his stomach.

Genesis paused, midway through reaching for the decanter, his eyes two giant orbs of delighted shock. The General scrambled for some explanatory anecdote, but he was too drunk to be clever and too sober to pass it off as being drunk. He pretended not to notice as his comrade's expression changed from surprise to smugness.

"I knew it" he said with a sort of savage satisfaction. "I knew there was something."

Sephiroth grimaced and decided it was probably best he wasn't entirely sober for the aftermath.

"I'm not following you" he said drily.

"Angeal said the reason you never picked up someone was because you were 'married to your job' or whatever but I knew there was more." He leaned back with the air of someone who'd figured out the mysteries of the universe. "Makes sense now. You can't get laid if your balls haven't dropped."

Sephiroth very nearly choked on his drink. As it was, he settled on passing it off as an explosive cough.

"Genesis" he said dourly. "I have been capable of... copulation since the age of thirteen."

The redhead frowned.

"Well I don't get what you're going through now then" he groused.

"The Professor did not deign to elaborate" Sephiroth said bitterly. "And I received a higher dosage of mako for asking why I am different."

Sapphire eyes softened somewhat at his declaration, continuing on to look remorseful.

"Seph...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed it."

"You didn't ask, I told you" he said shortly.

Genesis sighed and stood, snatching Sephiroth's glass away before he could refill it again.

"Ten's enough" he said firmly. "And I could have handled my reaction a lot better."

The silver-haired man opened his mouth to protest before thinking better of it. Picking at a loose thread in the divan, he couldn't help but wonder if all his comrades thought him so woefully incompetent.

"I don't know who my father was" he said, sensing Genesis' return to the room. "Hojo says my mother was called 'Jenova', and that she died giving birth to me." He didn't look at his friend as he continued. "I...know that I could have anyone I wanted, practically...but I simply don't see the point in sleeping with someone you won't commit to. I'm not judging you for it" he said quickly, glancing up and away. "I just...I know it's not the road I desire. I want someone I  
can cherish."

There was silence between them again, and Sephiroth resigned himself to derision and belittlement until the end of his days.

"You didn't have to tell me that" Genesis said quietly, sinking down beside him.

The silver-haired man laughed bitterly.

"Who else would I tell? Angeal would pity me, Hojo would laugh at me, my men would lose respect in me. The public would make my 'virginity' a spectacle…"

"Why am I any different?"

"You've never pretended to like me" he muttered. "You've never put me on a pedestal and worshipped the ground at my feet. You treat me like I'm human."

Genesis fell backwards onto the settee and covered his eyes with one arm.

"...I used to idolize you, when I was younger."

"I don't care about then" Sephiroth said wearily, speaking over his shoulder. "Only now matters."

Yet again, a wordless timespace yawned between them. The aquamarine chronometer ticked on in its place atop a coffee table….1700, 1800, 2200. A light snore beside him told Sephiroth Genesis had fallen asleep. It was only when the room started to spin that he made to get up to leave, only to have a hand around his vambraces stop him.

 _”My friend"_ Genesis garbled. _"Why do you fly away?"_

"...I didn't want to impose" Sephiroth replied quietly.

"Stay" was the muttered reply. He hesitated for a moment before sinking back down, grudgingly acknowledging that it was probably best he did stay rather than make a spectacle of himself in the halls. Only when he was very nearly driven to the the brink of unconsciousness did Genesis speak again. "You know...whoever you pick…"

"... they're going to be so damn lucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Something you'll likely notice; Sephiroth is under the impression that he and Genesis are already friends, whilst Genesis has a more cynical approach. Due to his upbringing, Sephiroth has a somewhat skewed viewpoint of how relationships work and due to HIS upbringing, Genesis is by nature fiercely competitive, which makes it hard for him to view Sephiroth in a 'humanized' light. This was something I honestly felt I could see in-game, but maybe it's just me.
> 
> This will likely be the last chapter where you're going to see Genesis and Sephiroth's POVs on the same page, the main reason being that the subsequent chapters are considerably longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Regarding the use of Shion: it was originally thought to be the proper translation of Tseng's name, and Tseng has always sounded somewhat like a last name to me. So, Shion Tseng.

"Commander Hewley to see you sir."

Genesis narrowed his eyes from the perch atop his desk; watching as his secretary scurried out of the room. He was sure she had a name, he just couldn't remember it, and she was so mousy and nondescript he couldn't be bothered to look it up. Around him, a sea of scattered papers gave the impression that he was floating on a massive cloud of stationary, but a hint of lacquered oak to the far right proved otherwise. Contrary to what a visitor might think, Genesis was really rather orderly; he just didn't organize things by color or label like Angeal, or by subtexts and alphabetical connotations like Sephiroth. No, the chaos in his room was that of a _natural_ disorder; it didn't mean he didn't know where anything was. Lazard had attempted to send in a cleaning staff twice and the results were ugly. Just because a piece of paper was on the floor didn't mean it was _garbage._

"Still rejecting all normal, methodical methods of filing I see" Angeal said dryly, wading across what was supposed to be a stack of finance reports.

"You're just jealous you don't have an eidetic memory" Genesis sniffed, closing his current copy of Loveless with a disdainful snap.

He watched as his childhood friend tried and failed to suppress an eyeroll.

"The only person with a flawless memory in this facility is Sephiroth" was the calm, mellow retort. Leaning against the desk, Angeal handed over a thick manila folder. "Who, as it happens, you're going on a mission with."

Genesis quelled the excitement that rose in his chest with an iron fist. Because he was _not_ eighteen and did _not_ have a poster of Sephiroth on the ceiling over his bed. Ripping open the folder, his excitement waned somewhat as he read over their coordinates.

"The Sleeping Forest?" he muttered. "Never been there."

"I'd imagine most people would echo your sentiment" Angeal said calmly. "The Turks want SOLDIER to chase a lead there. They think the people who killed those children were experimenting on them, which requires some degree of sophistication. However, they were likely hiring out for the kidnappings. They've narrowed down the subject pool to a group of mercenaries affiliated with trafficking, but their base in Midgar is empty and freight records indicate movements North to the Northern Continent, but not to places like Modeoheim or Icicle Inn."

"There's nothing there though" Genesis persisted, flipping through the briefing. "Nothing but miles and miles of forest."

"I imagine that's rather the point" Angeal replied rapping his fist on the desk before standing upright. "Sephiroth is excellent at tracking and you're not half bad at outdoor survival."

"He'll never agree to this" the redhead sighed, letting the folder drop onto the counter. "He already backed out of the mission."

"Well, he's consented again for whatever reason" his friend said cheerfully. "You leave in an hour, I wouldn't spend too much time thinking it over." Wading his way back to the door, he paused. "I'd dress warm if I were you."

Thankfully, the five or six choice words Genesis threw at Angeal's back were drowned out by his pager buzzing with mission specifications. Scrolling through the details, he couldn't fully dismiss his excitement. It was rare to get missions in territories that were sparsely charted. No one knew the full layout of The Sleeping Forest, it was considered a poor place to adventure at leisure. People disappeared in its frigid depths never to be seen again and there were several accounts of nomadic wanderers losing their minds amidst sparkling silver boughs and glassy pools with unknown depths. He'd be a fool to pass up the opportunity, even if it did mean taking orders from Sephiroth.

Hopping down from his desk, Genesis wandered over to one of the few filing cabinets left in his office. Opening it, he ran the combination for the safe within and retrieved his identification papers and his SOLDIER reconnaissance card. He might not need them at all but he wasn't willing to risk it. Sephiroth was famous, but that didn't mean he would vouch for Genesis should the circumstance arise. The idea of calling Lazard to inform him that he'd forgotten his papers and needed a lift 'home' was incredibly unappealing. It was protocol to bring some legally acknowledged means of namesake on missions anyway, it was just rare to see anyone above the rank of 3RD actually comply. Snatching up a copy of LOVELESS that had seen possibly one too many winters; Genesis coded the lock to his office and gave his secretary her usual daily glare before informing her he was leaving indefinitely and that under no circumstances should his study be disturbed. He thought he heard her respond when he was halfway down the hall to the lift, but was too invested in his destination at that point to turn around.

Outfitting was less-than-thrilled about his request for red snow gear; Genesis left with standard-colored equipment, feeling as if the world didn't quite understand a man's need to make a statement...isolated forest be damned. From Outfitting he descended several floors up to the helipad, a rucksack with rations, survival gear, clothes, maps, radios, and a thermal sleeping bag slung over his shoulder. The weather was somewhat cold and virulently breezy, standard for the altitude; Sephiroth was waiting next to a chopper looking decidedly less-than-thrilled. The bird in question was company-affiliated, and would only transfer them outside of city limits. Normally, Genesis might have balked at the stops they were going to be forced to make along the way, but the opportunity of getting out of Midgar was still too attractive to dismiss in favor of discontent.

"Could've hopped a loco" Genesis shouted over the sound of the rotors as he swung into the right-side passenger seat.

"Not discreet" was the tight-lipped reply as Sephiroth signaled the pilot and echoed his movements. Reaching toward the mess of tangled cords in front of them, the General tossed him a headset before retrieving one of his own. "We don't want to be followed."

"Ah, so this is all you then" Genesis muttered, shoving his bag under his seat. The look his fellow SOLDIER gave him was half-exasperated and half-incredulous. "Well you've got to admit it'd be hard to complete a stealth mission with several hundred fangirls tailing us."

"There's a plug to disable the microphones" Sephiroth said idly, tilting his head up and scanning the dashboard on the ceiling.

"You wouldn't happen to have gotten a tent, would you?" Genesis continued, switching conversational tactics whilst unbuckling Rapier and settling it between his knees. "I've got a sleeping bag and that's it."

"I did" was the neutral reply. "Close quarters but it'll have to do."

"Well we weren't going to get a mansion" the redheaded man replied, leaning over to watch as the helicopter began to ascend. "Any particular reason you decided to reassign yourself to this mission?"

There was a long stretch of silence, and Genesis glanced over to see a flicker of uncertainty dance over Sephiroth's normally impassive features before they rearranged themselves into an indifferent sort of smugness.

"Couldn't let you claim all the glory could I?" he said dryly, shaking a loose strand of silver hair out of his face. "Let you do too many missions like this on your own and you'll be a General by the end of the month."

Genesis was painfully aware of the fact that a few months ago such a statement would have tossed him into a rage. A small, petty part of himself balked at the idea of letting it go. Still, any residual angst that might have remained was crushed under the brittle bravado in Sephiroth's tone; in the way his hand strayed to pull at the leather in the center of his palm before snatching it back. For more than the first time in a month, the redhead acknowledged the fact that Angeal would have been trying and failing not to beam at him for his 'restraint' and 'maturity'. And it wasn't so much his pride that kept him silent as much as it was the knowledge that everything Sephiroth had just said to him was complete and utter bullshit. 

* * *

 

Tseng was waiting for them at the edge of the Plate next to a company truck that looked like it had seen better days. They disembarked and threw their belongings into the bed of the vehicle before turning to listen to what the Turk had to say; the sound of the helicopter fading away into the distance.

"It's up to the two of you to decide who you want to drive" Tseng said calmly. "You'll only be taking it as far as Kalm, I don't think I need to tell either of you to watch for Zoloms. Once you arrive in Kalm there will be transport ready for you to cross the Straights. You'll be permitted one Shinra-funded night to stay in the inn and your contact will be a local named Feir Benlet; he will arrive to take you to the shores at 0630. Your last stop will be in Bone Village, and from there you'll be on your own. Your radios should work up until a point, reports indicate that long-distance communication often fails within ten miles of the forest."

"Is that it?" Genesis demanded impatiently, Tseng smirked.

"There's...one more thing you should be aware of. Should you fail to return within the allotted of time, Shinra forfeits any responsibility to send in a search and rescue party. This is uncharted territory with a fair amount of unnatural happenstance, the company won't waste resources on a lost cause. Two months subsequent to your failure to arrive back in Bone Village, your families will be informed of your disappearance and you will be assumed dead."

There was a long stretch of silence.

"Cheerful" Sephiroth remarked, turning towards the truck. "Thank you for your time, Shion*."

Tseing favored Genesis with a raised eyebrow before turning to make his way back towards the center of the plate, the glint of what looked like a motorcycle was barely visible between two bored-looking Thirds. From where they stood, the upper-expanse of Midgar was a glittering plethora of steel and industry; wheel upon wheel of stylized futurism rushing inwards to the twisting spiral that was Shinra. The gates were manned by both the local police and the Guard; Seconds who chose public service over military pursuit. The glitter of mako was barely visible from such a distance, but even the smallest glimpse gave the city an eerie netherworld quality; reflected like so many ghosts between glass, chrome, and towering structures. Genesis was reminded once again that while his name was undeniably established, it could be easily forgotten. The construction of Midgar had pulled hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people into one area that-when one considered the sheer number of individuals living in one place-was not all that large at all. People took interest in Shinra's Firsts because they were figureheads-societal mascots-but if one of them should fall out of favor with the company, it would be very easy to make it seem like they'd died in combat or simply retired. It was not altogether comforting to consider himself expendable, but he was. Even _Sephiroth_ was expendable, though it would-admittedly-take a considerable amount of effort to put him out of commission.

"We should go now, or we won't reach Kalm before midnight."

Genesis startled as the General's slow, sangfroid voice cut across his brooding like the gradual but inevitable march of a glacier. Shaking himself, he cast one last glance over the massive expanse of a city before turning to face Sephiroth, who was standing perhaps two yards behind him looking like his usual unemotional mass of perfection. Kicking idly at a stray pebble, he let his gaze drift behind them; scanning the horizon more out of habitual practice than necessity. The land outside of Midgar was desolate and unremarkable; with mile upon mile of dusty, reddish-colored outcroppings and steep gullies with no observable cause of formation. Old, dusty documents in the back of the Records Department indicated that the entirety of Midgar had once been covered with lakes, forests and streams; most of which had been redirected or used for facilities as the city was built above and upon it. Genesis couldn't quite fathom the need to wipe out an entire ecosystem in the face of industry, but he'd gone into the military knowing very well that environmental activism was not his forte. It wasn't his job to ask questions.

"You want to drive?" Genesis' question earned him a dour look as Sephiroth slid into the passenger seat and reached forward to rifle through the glove box. "Map?"

"We'll follow the main road North" was the dry response. "Kalm is smaller than Midgar but still accessible via the highway."

"...All that yap about Zoloms?" the redhead muttered, turning the key and gritting his teeth as the truck sputtered to life; an expanse of black smoke encompassing them for a few moments.

"Unlikely unless food is scarce, they're more prominent near the mines and mating season just ended."

"You been before?"

Sephiroth paused, in the process of pulling what looked like a large, blinking vehicular battery from a glove box that was evidently much more spacious than most.

"When I was...younger, I passed through it briefly on my way to Shinra."

"Oh? Do tell." Yanking the wheel sharply to the left, Genesis pulled onto the main road and shifted gears.

"It's irrelevant" his travel companion replied, a thin vein of impatience seeping into his tone.

"And that?" the redhead queried, nodding at the 'battery.'

"A deterrent, for...wildlife. Shinra started outfitting repellant transmitters when we lost sixty SOLDIERS en route to Costa del Sol."

"Lost sixty soldiers to _what?"_ Genesis sputtered, aghast.

"A Ghidra, I believe" was the idle response. "They're fond of tossing trucks."

Genesis fought the sliver of semi-hysterical laughter that attempted to force its way past his lips with little success. What came out was somewhere between a deranged scream of hilarity and a vicious sneeze. Glancing to the side, he was unsurprised to see Sephiroth looking as unruffled as usual, only the slightest upturn of his lip was any indication of the man's amusement. As it was, it was the last bit of encouragement Genesis needed to dissolve into a series of unflattering guffaws. The truck swerved dangerously for a minute before he righted it.

"Oh- _heh- **fuck**_ you man. I-I didn't need that mental picture- _tch!"_

"You can look it up in mission records. Nobody talks about it, I've found."

"Yeah, no thanks" Genesis muttered, sobering slightly. "Doesn't matter how you slice it, that's still sixty DNs that had to be sent to families...and sixty good SOLDIERS died for nothing. Doesn't really surprise me that nobody talks about it."

"I've never heard anyone who has spent more than ten years in service call their time enlisted 'worth it'" Sephiroth mused. "It's always struck me as strange."

"Well I wouldn't call sticking your neck out and hoping it doesn't get separated from your head 'worth it'" Genesis replied, squinting slightly as a cloud of dust was thrown up from the tires. "It's about honor, and renown and all that...that's what's 'worth it.'" He glanced over at Sephiroth, who was turning a dial-knob on the transmitter. "What about you?"

The silver-haired man paused.

"What about me?"

"Well...you were basically raised in the program, is it everything you ever wanted? Haven't you ever wanted more?"

There was a long stretch of silence as the General considered his question.

"I...never particularly considered it" was the quiet reply. "And, realistically, even if I did want more it is very unlikely I'd get it. My contract contains strict stipulations regarding my lifestyle that I cannot challenge without heavy consequences."

Genesis frowned, eyeing the road ahead of them with a feeling of unease.

"Doesn't Shinra having so much power over you...bother you? I think if I was in your position I'd go AWOL."

"It wouldn't matter" was the clipped response. "I'd be constantly on the run, Shinra isn't the type to let their prized possessions wander far. That's not living."

"Doesn't seem like you do much 'living' regardless."

"I'm used to it. When you don't have indulgences it's rather difficult to fathom wanting any."

"But... isn't there anything that makes you happy? Something you look forward to coming home to at the end of a long mission?" Sephiroth appeared to consider his query, his gaze focused out the window to their right.

"I...am fond of baths."

Genesis tried and failed to suppress the small uprising of indignation that rose in his throat on Sephiroth's behalf. Swallowing, he focused on the road ahead, afraid that if he opened his mouth he'd say something truly regrettable. Traffic immediately around Midgar was sparse; this was mostly due to the fact that the majority of shipments came and went by air, and few families considered it a necessity to travel outside the boundaries of the metropolis. Travel for the sake of exploratory leisure was not a popular fad, and it was not particularly encouraged. An individual could take a plane to Costa del Sol and other commonplace vacations spots, but the places between them were rarely traversed; merely flown over. Speed was a necessity society had come to rely on and it was neither worth the money or the risk to travel by land. That being said, they passed three or four trucks with obscure subdivision labels headed in the opposite direction, and a blurred figure on a motorbike shouted a vague obscenity that was immediately yanked away by the unforgiving wind. Having apparently set up the repellent transmitter, Sephiroth shoved it back into the glove box; folding his arms and directing his gaze out the window with an unfathomable expression.

Night descended quickly once dusk dug its claws into the dusty earth around them. Sunset was something swift and unforgiving, even on Midgar. The days were short; like a monster freshly slain in the last throes of death...darkness reigned far longer over the planet and each passing year the time between sunrise and sunset seemed to grow shorter. It was no uncommon occurrence; Gaia's axis went through a seemingly ever-changeable cycle of transformation. Genesis had no real fascination for astrology...but the planet, his planet, was worthy of occasional fixation. Even as a child, he'd been forced to acknowledge that his love of the land was far greater than his love of anything else. His father was quick to dismiss his infatuation, impatient with a son who did little but defy every expectation placed before him. His mother was less reticent but not nearly as knowledgeable, and what little information she could provide quickly fell tepid on ears that had heard such tales too many times before. And so he was forced to read in order to expand his curiosity, until he stumbled across _Loveless_ and could find nothing more succinct-more _incisive_ -to describe the glory of the planet.

_"All that awaits you is a somber morrow."_

"Don't start" Sephiroth grumbled. "This truck is loud enough without your ridiculous need to enumerate antiquated...poesy."

"Don't let the drill sergeant catch you saying something as flowery as _'poesy'_ " Genesis retorted.

The silver-haired General opened his mouth to reply before he sat up abruptly in his seat, his eyes narrowed and focused ahead. Returning his concentration to the road, Genesis yelped and swerved violently to the left to avoid a solid wall of what appeared to be scales. There was a hiss as Masamune was unsheathed and his driving companion disappeared out the window in a flash of silver and black. The subtlety of Sephiroth's utterance of movement was drowned out by an earsplitting screech that seemed to shake the very earth. Braking, Genesis threw himself out of the vehicle in time to avoid another pass by what could now be identified as a massive, serpentine tail. It missed the truck by inches to smash into a large pillar of rottenstone; sending a spray of reddish-brown rock perhaps three hundred feet into the air. Yanking Rapier out of its scabbard, Genesis squinted in the poor light as the mako in his eyes adjusted his vision to accommodate. A flash of silver caught his attention and he watched with an incredulous sort of derision as Sephiroth appeared atop a giant, reptilian head the size of a high-rise.

The creature in question was indeed a Zolom, though in the thick of it all, Genesis couldn't rightly say whether it was male or female. Only a blind idiot would be unimpressed by the amount of raw power before him. Zoloms were massive snakes as thick as buildings were wide and often several stories tall. They ranged in color from a murky green to black and had stunning, murderous eyes the size of dinner plates. Their venom-if administered-was enough to lay a FIRST down in less than five seconds, but that was only if you could keep up with their speed and strength. As trainees Genesis and Angeal had often joked about slaying the rare behemoths that haunted the far reaches of Gaia. That was before Genesis came face to face with a Marlboro during what should have been a standard reconnaissance mission. He barely escaped with his life and there was no more joking after that.

Ducking to avoid a thick coil of musculature, Genesis vaulted precariously onto the undulating beast and traced Sephiroth's footsteps up to the head. As far as upward treks went, it wasn't exactly the most pleasant. The scales were nearly sharp enough to slice through his uniform without any effort at all, and he was forced to move constantly to avoid cutting himself in half. By the time he'd reached his destination Sephiroth was rather casually sliding downwards to deal a cranial blow. Catching an arcing movement to his left, Genesis barely had time to plant his feet and orient Rapier before slicing through a section of tail that would have knocked them off of their perch. His reward was another head-splitting screech and he stumbled as a smattering of black blood burned its way across his cheek.

"Try to avoid bloodshed unless you're aligned for a killing blow" Sephiroth barked, pitching his voice over the cacophony of wind and roaring serpent whilst toeing the center of the giant, thrashing, hooded head as if searching for a weak spot. "It's acidic."

"Gaia" Genesis swore, clapping a hand to his cheek and feeling the braised dermis. Already, the mako in his system was working to rectify the issue; knitting meat and sinew with a precision that was both familiar yet still somehow incredibly disturbing. "And are _you_ 'lined up for a killing blow' yet?!"

His silver-haired comrade appeared to pause, as if considering something. Masamune was adjusted in his grip to point directly downwards, glittering ominously by the light of slowly emerging stars. Silhouetted at his back, at least a hundred miles away by now was the ghostly green glow of Midgar; the faint illumination left in its wake throwing him into sharp relief. Not for the first time, Genesis was struck by how achingly beautiful the General was...though such knowledge seemed to continuously escape the man himself. Poised on top of a Zolom with a days' worth of dust coating his clothes and he was still stupidly attractive. Swallowing, Genesis forced himself to look away, bitterness coating his tongue. In all likeliness, Sephiroth had been engineered to appear the way he did...if his suspicions about his upbringing were right. He didn't dare ask. It was, in a way, a mark of both the tactical brilliance and terrible cruelty of Shinra. Because as perfect Sephiroth was on the battlefield, he was equally imperfect in the ways that made people human.

He didn't look as another deafening howl split the air, signaling the end of of their close-quarter combat session. Instead, Genesis braced himself against the fluttering edge of the Zolom's hood; watching as the ground rushed up to meet them, twisting to avoid landing directly in a puddle of noir sanguinity. He could feel Sephiroth watching him with a detached sort of curiosity, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Glancing at the serpentine coils writhing about them, Genesis could honestly say that he'd never felt so old. Wiping Rapier in the reddish dust felt like a heinous transgression, but there was nothing for it. Damage to the truck was-thankfully-minimal enough that it would at least get them to where they needed to go and he forced himself to pace its circumference to check for leaks before joining Sephiroth in the cab.

"We're only an hour out from Kalm" the General said quietly.

"Good. I'm ready for a bath" Genesis muttered. He glanced over at the now eerily silent corpse; silhouetted against the moon like some terrible testament to the violence of the Planet. "Reckon we should call it in?"

"No" was the hoarse reply, and he looked over in surprise to see Sephiroth scrubbing his eyes.

"Leave it."

The ghost of a smirk flickered over Genesis' lips.

"Tired?"

Black-gloved hands clenched convulsively before settling.

"I'm not immortal, Genesis."

The truck started up with a groan and a shudder, rattling in the wastes like so many metal bones shivering in the sand. It wasn't until they were several miles down the road that the redheaded man garnered any sort of response, and even then it was to the point and deliberately gentle….;

"No...you're not."


	4. Chapter 4

Kalm was a place Sephiroth would rather forget.

It was a common place for SOLDIER rendezvous, but neither he nor Genesis were 'low priority’ enough to warrant an order out to the nearest town to Midgar. From what he'd gathered listening to 2nds reminisce, the citizenry was aloof but not unfriendly; having no particularly negative or positive opinions of Shinra in general. Cadets spoke often of the jovial innkeeper and pub owner, both of whom were paid handsomely for their accommodations. Otherwise, the populace was reputed to leave SOLDIER well alone, save for the occasional gaggle of passing tourists or female admirers.

No, Sephiroth’s negative response to the town was his and his alone; set aloft on the wings of a black memory from years before. A crimson recollection of pain and disorientation...of the mid-square tower ghosting across his vision as he was dragged below it. There was little else to go on but that memory was enough to fill him with a single-minded sense of revulsion. He was as fond of Kalm as he was of Hojo’s laboratory; the only difference being he wasn't entirely sure why.

The city itself was mostly nondescript and centered around its industry. Cobblestone streets passed under jettied wood and stone homes, many of which were dark and still at the late hour they arrived. Kalm wasn't particularly known for its fondness for architecture. Most of the city's organic needs were shipped in, not unlike Midgar. Adverse to its Southern neighbor, the mining town put little emphasis on technology. The majority of Kalm was community-centric... somewhat rustic, and had been for many years. Mining wasn't a rich livelihood, and the people made up for it with close family values and group-oriented thinking.

The entrance to the town was guarded by a sleepy-looking watchman who glanced at their truck and directed them to what looked like an exterior parking lot. In a raspy voice indicative of little rest, it was explained to them that vehicles fared poorly on the rough cobblestone streets. Bidding their guide a good-night, they began a leisurely trek to the inn. The weather was cool but not enough to be unpleasant, certainly not to someone with mako in their system. Here and there were scattered remnants of the day before; a loose bit of the local paper, a vendor's tent pole propped precariously at the entrance to an alleyway. A solitary lamplighter offered them a weary sort of nod before continuing on his way.

“Strange, isn't it?” Genesis remarked, fiddling with his tabard.

“Hm?”

“We put such an emphasis on tech in Midgar, but then there's places like this that don't even use electric street lights.”

“Electricity is still used to power structural interiors” Sephiroth replied, glancing down the yawning mouth of an empty side street. “Kalm puts a great emphasis on the preservation of its history, and tourists enjoy the... throwback, so-to-speak.”

“Seems pointless” was the somewhat haughty reply. “All that effort to stay antiquated.”

Before them, the road opened up to reveal the town square and Sephiroth paused as a slow, insidious, but familiar shiver passed over him. There was the soft rustle of leather as Genesis turned to look back at him; a sliver of moonlight passing through the overpowering loom of the central tower to alight on scarlet hair...like fire on a mercurial horizon. Lunar brilliance traversed the landscape of a single sapphire iris; plunging the rest of his friend’s visage into shadowy darkness. Sephiroth was filled with a sense of foreboding that was at once repellent and alluring...ethereal and yet cruel in a way that was both pitiably fragile and staggeringly vicious.

“-ou coming?”

Genesis’ tone was even, his stance non-threatening; but Sephiroth could sense the apprehensive tension in his limbs. It was the careful entreaty SOLDIER approached him with whenever he did something 'out-of-character’ or alarming. He was accosted with a terrible sense of self-imposed claustrophobia; of the long-ingrained idea that he was somehow monstrously different. At once, he wanted to throw Genesis across Kalm for treating him like an animal-directive in regards to his actions be damned-or crawl away into some forgotten hole where no one would find him. Gritting his teeth, Sephiroth forced himself to be in the present…to not dwell on vague and distant recollections from his youth that were not in tangent with their mission.

“...What?”

Genesis cocked his head, a shadow of shrewd observation ghosting across his features before disappearing as if it was never there.

“I asked if you were coming” he said calmly, his tone betraying nothing of his thoughts on the matter. “I've heard the innkeeper is less than kind about late arrivals.”

Glancing at the sky, Sephiroth estimated it to be well past 0130, at the same time forcing himself to move forward in synchronicity with his thoughts.

“I reckon we’re well past the hour of his benevolence” he replied, keeping his tone deliberately bland as he brushed past his Commander.

They passed under the tower in silence, each wrapped up in his own thoughts. Sephiroth was disgusted with himself for succumbing to weakness in front of a fellow SOLDIER, and subsequently even more disgusted with himself for caring about it. He was used to having a bird's eye view of his emotional well-being; coordinating his thoughts and feelings in a way that was efficient but distant. Barely stopping himself from worrying his leather gloves, Sephiroth grudgingly acceded to the possibility that Hojo had been right about his 'belated hormonal anomaly.’ He wasn't able to give it much more thought, however, as they'd reached the door to the inn and Genesis had raised his hand to knock.

The innkeeper was indeed displeased to see them at such a late hour, but upon hearing their rank and names quickly warmed to the idea of their presence. They were given an apologetic repast of soup and bread and shown to their room with very little fuss. The space itself was acceptably sized and nondescript, with two twin beds parallel to each other on either side of a large nightstand. The view out the window gave them a magnificent vantage point of the tower but Genesis-sensing perhaps more than he’d let on-hastily drew the curtains before disappearing into the bathroom to shower. Sephiroth placed his rucksack in the closet next to the door and set about the tedious task of unbuckling his boots, outer armor, and removing his gloves and jacket. The culmination of his efforts would leave him in his pants, and he was content to spend the night as such.

He heard rather than saw Genesis return to the room and pause, a soft intake of breath reaching his ears before it died out and was gone. A series of loud thumps indicated his second in command had thrown his belongings under his bed as per usual.

“We have very little time for rest” Sephiroth said tonelessly, pulling his coverlets back. “Our boat leaves early.”

Genesis didn't deign to reply immediately, and he watched as the red headed SOLDIER pulled a shirt out of his bag and yanked it over his head in a world-weary sort of way before sitting down on the edge of the bed closest to Sephiroth, his expression somewhat wary.

“You know, you can talk to me, if you want” he said calmly.

Poised to pull a comb from his rucksack, the General paused, irritation traversing his features before he was able to stop it.

“I’m not sure I follow you” he replied, resuming his task and gathering the ends of his hair so he could begin working up.

“Gaia, do you _comb_ your entire head every night?!” Genesis demanded, seemingly momentarily distracted.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow.

“...Yes?”

He startled somewhat as deft fingers plucked the comb from his grasp, forced to watch as his Commander disposed of it in the wastebasket and bent over to pull his duffel from under the bed, muttering to himself.

“As much as I’m loathe to admit it, I actually did need that” Sephiroth said blithely.

“And _I’m_ not spending my night listening to you comb out that monstrosity” Genesis snapped, yanking a large brush from his bag and marching towards him with a look of singularly evil purpose. “Turn around.”

“I’m not-”

“- _Fucking_ hell” the redhead growled, sitting down on the mattress and taking a long strand of silver hair without preamble. “Fine. Just sit still and don’t kill me.” Sephiroth blinked in confusion as his friend began a stubborn but surprisingly gentle vendetta against a days’ worth of tangles. “I don’t understand why you don’t own a brush.”

“I never considered the comb inadequate” he said flatly, wincing as an irritated tug sent prickles across his scalp. “This is wildly inappropriate.”

 

Genesis snorted.

“Why? Because you _outrank_ me?”

Sephiroth closed his eyes as long fingers raked through strands of hair, separating it with an ease that was both professional and familiar.

“I...am not supposed to engage in frivolous physical contact.”

There was a stretch of silence as Genesis’ hands faltered; a long, low intake of breath the only indication the other man had heard.

“...So you’re not allowed to sleep with anyone” was the tight response.

The silver-haired man swallowed thickly, aware of the risk he was taking by disclosing such information. Genesis could very well use his celibacy against him, though to what end he wasn’t quite sure. SOLDIERS seemed to take great pride in their sexual escapades, at any rate. As far as he was concerned, the fact he’d never ‘gotten laid’ was enough to make him incredibly strange...let alone the fact that he was different in so many other facets of existence.

“No.”

“...You’ve never-??”

 

_“_ _-No.”_

Genesis hands shook slightly as he continued his task despite such a revelation. Sephiroth could almost sense the amount of tension in the air, though what emotion it was tied to he couldn’t really say. It took considerably less time to work the knots out of his hair with aid then alone, perhaps ten minutes or so. By the time his second-in-command moved to the final strand, he was fairly sure he’d managed to throw himself under the bus. Hojo’s incessant, hissing reminders to keep as normal a persona as possible were slowly creeping to the forefront of his brain. By the time Genesis set the brush down he was very close to outwardly panicking, something neither of them needed. Still, even with his task completed, the redhead didn’t move away; instead he placed a hand on Sephiroth’s knee and squeezed lightly.

“We-Angeal and I-we were...given protocols on what to do should you lose control, but I’m assuming you know that already.” The silver-haired man made a noise of affirmation, his voice caught in his throat. “Neither of us were ever told why, but it doesn’t really matter to either of us...you’re still one of us. A SOLDIER, I mean, regardless of where you come from. Nobody seems to know a lot about you” was the muttered statement. “None of us do, I guess that’s why so many people admire you.”

“I didn’t ask for it” he replied bitterly, and Genesis smiled in a way that looked somewhat painful.

“Yeah, I know. I always had a hard time understanding why you didn’t carry your notoriety as a point of pride, but I get it. It’s not something you want, and it’s not something you can get away from.” Sephiroth nodded mutely, unwilling to show anymore weakness than he already had. Genesis sighed and looked away. “Why did you agree to take up the mission again? You’re obviously not comfortable with it, and it’s not like anyone could really force you to participate.”

Faced with a question he couldn’t answer with a shake of his head, Sephiroth cleared his throat.

“I...realized that the circumstances of my initial rejection were emotionally charged and not professionally based.”

“Yeah, I get that, but you still didn’t have to do this.”

Feeling a frown tug at his lips, the General carefully schooled his features.

“It’s my duty to provide what Shinra requests, whether it be paperwork or fieldwork...and it’s not my place to decide whether or not I want to participate.”

His companion still looked skeptical, but wisely changed topics.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand what you might be going through...with whatever Hojo said is happening. I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but if you did, I want you to know that I’m not going to use it against you.” The redhead worried a stray thread hanging from the cuff of his uniform, his face pensive. “My...my father, he was distant, cold.” His companion screwed up his face, as if such a confession pained him. “I always did well academically, but it wasn’t good enough unless I acted as smart as I really was...and that just wasn’t in my character-”

“-You don’t have to tell me this-” the General cut in, only to be quickly overrode.

“-It’s called reciprocation, Seph” Genesis snapped. “And I want to tell you, so shut up and listen. I was in trouble constantly for not fitting into this preconceived mold he’d so carefully laid out, even when I was doing well on my own. I let it bother me as a kid, because what little boy doesn’t want their father’s approval? But as I got older it mattered less.” A red-leather hand reached up to tug idly at the decorative piercing hanging from his ear. “My mother was materialistic...obsessed with aesthetic and little else. We were never close, but that didn’t particularly matter. She never made much of an effort to begin with.” Pearlescent eye teeth bit into the rubicund flesh of a lower lip. “I...can’t imagine not choosing my own way, and I get that you’ve never really had to option, but you can still have your own individuality and if you need my help finding that, I’m not opposed to it.”

The analytical part of Sephiroth’s mind acknowledged that acquiescing to his friend’s offer would likely do him quite a bit of good. He was unduly stressed and experiencing a level of emotional vulnerability he’d never experienced, and Genesis was certainly an emotional individual. The Trauma pamphlets HR liked to hand around encouraged SOLDIERs to speak with each other about upsetting experiences or feelings, as having a larger mentality than your own could be therapeutic. However, deeper ingrained were the teachings he had learned in the lab; _’keep your mouth shut and your head straight forward, don’t ask questions, don’t show weakness or fear. Don’t assume anyone is your friend, SOLDIERs are out to surpass their betters in any way possible, don’t think you aren’t disposable, don’t make tactical errors and don’t make a mockery of the responsibility Shinra has placed on your head. Remember that everything you have earned can be taken away.’_

“I appreciate your offer” Sephiroth said flatly. “Good night, Commander.”

To his credit, Genesis hid the disappointment that crossed his features well, settling behind a mask of indifference with ease. Still, it wasn’t enough that Sephiroth missed it, and he cursed the equally sympathetic part of himself that felt terrible for rejecting the olive branch extended to him. Angeal would be sorely disappointed; perhaps even surprised as it was usually the other member of their duo who was constantly fighting against an easy camaraderie. He couldn’t imagine what it had cost Genesis to reach out to him in the ways of pride, and the frigidity of his response made him nauseous...to the point where he couldn’t meet the other man’s gaze. It was therefore somewhat of a surprise when an affectionate hand was run through his hair, lingering somewhat at the nape of his neck before drawing it to the side and over his shoulder; presumably so he wouldn’t snap his neck when trying to lay down.

“Get some sleep” Genesis said quietly, rising to cross over to his side of the room. “Keep the brush” he added over his shoulder. “ _’I offer thee this silent sacrifice.’_ ”

Later, as the slow, deep breaths of his sleeping comrade filled the room, Sephiroth gazed at the dark ceiling and wondered if he was gradually coming undone. It was such a frivolous, illogical consideration he immediately concluded that that was indeed what must be happening. Upon apprehending the mercenaries, he would return to HQ and request a full evaluation. It was what was expected of him, and it was heavily stipulated that failing to do so could have serious consequences. Still, as he fell into unconsciousness, Sephiroth acknowledged that being privy to such emotions made it easier to understand those around him. And if he dreamed that night for the first time in his life; of a woman with dark eyes and hair as long as his own whispering apology after apology across what seemed like endless time and space….he told no one.

Because even if he should cease to dream again...he knew those tearful _mea culpas_ were his...and his alone.

* * *

 

Feir Benlet was waiting for them by the time they got down to the docks.

He had the look of a man who’d spent the majority of his life on or near the ocean; with skin like dried fruit, hands as knobbly as the rigging he worked, and eyes like the black center of a tempest...sparkling out from under a beard that even Sephiroth was almost envious of. He offered little in the way of pleasantries, something the General could sincerely appreciate, though Genesis appeared somewhat discomfited when several attempts at idle conversation were rebuffed with single-word responses. Like the waters he navigated, it appeared Feir preferred to keep his secrets to himself, no matter how charming or witty the conversant. Sephiroth settled himself at the bow, and once his social ventures proved themselves truly useless, his second-in-command took possession of the prow; leaning forwards to peer into aquamarine depths.

The ship itself was simple but beautiful, of barquentine design and obviously well-kept. It appeared that it was used mainly for ferrying people back and forth across the straight; the cabin they were given as a courtesy had a guest list and several photos of what must have been frequent local travellers over the course of several years. Feir was a permanent resident on his own vessel apparently; the captain’s quarters had a plaque with his name and credentials over them, along with assorted seafaring memorabilia. Despite not being overly social, it was obvious the man was very well-loved within the circles he associated with. Staring at what appeared to be several generations of vacationing families in the main passageway leading to the upper deck, Sephiroth couldn’t help but feel a bit envious...and somewhat lost. Despite his obvious conversational setbacks, the man they were sailing with had still managed to gather a large amount of loyal admirers.Whatever set him apart from everyone else was obviously more complex than his inability to understand or be understood. Once the thought crossed his mind he was equally disheartened by his now apparently rampant ability to feel self-pity.

The seas around the straits were typically calm, with barely a cloud to ruffle their passage. After some apparent deliberation, Genesis climbed one of the masts and disappeared into the cloud of sails above them, humming something under his breath. Sephiroth contented himself with his post on the deck, staring out at the flashing array of aqueous expanse before them. Feir kept his position at the wheel, occasionally glancing at the sun with a practiced reverence. It was clear the man had a great respect for the ocean, and somehow Sephiroth felt better for it. As they made their way North, the weather grew somewhat cooler and the seas rougher. The spray that leapt up to hiss across the decking was flecked with foam and slightly more acrid. Throughout their journey they passed no other ships, but this wasn’t particularly unusual. Most civilians couldn’t afford a standard truck or car, let alone a seafaring vessel. Maritime activities were considered a luxury one paid for, not something one possessed.

Eventually Genesis descended from the rigging and handed Sephiroth several protein bars and two bottles of water. The redhead attempted to indulge their captain but was rebuffed yet again. They ate in silence, watching as the coast of the Northernmost continent loomed before them; the shore made eerie by the late afternoon sun. Several thin trails of smoke indicated the location of Bone Village, grey tendrils of dissipating fuel soaring into the sky before being snatched away by the wind. Sephiroth knew for a fact that the village itself was more of an archeological dig site; the residents there were mostly of academic backgrounds...some of whom had decided to settle. Word from the area was scarce, and it was rumored that the community was somewhat cult-like. Thankfully, there was no evidence of the inhabitants having violent tendencies...not that it would have mattered much in the face of two Firsts.

It was near dark by the time they came into port...what little could be considered a port anyway. It was more of an inlet with one or two rickety looking skiffs that appeared to have seen better days. Flanked on three sides by tall, forbidding cliffs, it made for a foreboding sight. There were no lights leading inland; only a single slightly overgrown trail that curved between two large boulders and disappeared into the thorny undergrowth. Perhaps two miles inland Sephiroth could hear the sounds of pedestrian activity, echoing over high ridges to fall on his mako-enhanced ears. The distant ambience was peaceful, like the murmur of a brook just out of sight on the end of a forest track. Genesis was handing gil over to Feir, voicing words of thanks enough for the both of them. Sephiroth spared the man a nod, which the sailor returned with a quiet sort of understanding in his eyes. He would spend the night in a cove a few miles South and then return to Kalm the following morning. They were encouraged to reach Bone Village before night truly fell, as the area they were in was rife with nocturnal predators. Neither bothered to point out that it would be better if all manner of wildlife simply stay away from _them_ , not the other way around.

The duo didn’t stay to watch the ship sail away, preferring to take to the path and make haste to the village. The brambles were sharp and cutting, but they soon passed through a crevasse that led them sharply upwards onto the tops of the cliffs they had observed earlier. Here the path wended in a constantly curving ‘S’ pattern until it dropped away steeply; opening up onto an enclosed valley that glowed eerily in the very late twilight. Bone Village was-Sephiroth observed-very aptly named; with structures that were one part stone, another wood, and another the remains of some monstrous behemoth from times long gone past. Torches and floodlights blazed from empty ocular and sinus sockets like so many trapped auras, tarps and assorted linens made dwellings out of prehistoric rib cages. Groups of four to six people sat or stood about low-burning fires made mostly of peat moss.

The terrain itself was marshy and smelled strongly of clay, with an abundance of sedges and reeds. The edge of the valley was lined with a few willows whose wispy branches hung as if overburdened by more than their own weight; mottled trunks giving way to soggy, tepid soil. It was in its own way beautiful; the reflection of the merging of two wildly different climates in a semi permanent zone. They were given a few curious looks by the locals, but no one stopped to question them as they descended into the village and then down again to the massive ‘rib tent’; this time on a ladder. A despondent looking chocobo raised its head, giving them a woeful stare and earning Genesis’ worried tongue clucking before Sephiroth cuffed the back of his head in exasperation.

“That is _not_ how you keep a chocobo” the redhead hissed.

“That is _not_ our problem, Genesis.”

“It's too cold here Seph! Chocobos aren't built for this terrain!”

“Maybe his owner fashioned him some boots.”

“Oh, ha _ha…._ fine time for you to grow a sense of humor.”

By the time they reached the small visitor's outpost on the furthermost side of the...whatever the thing was’s spine; Genesis was practically shouting about how chocobos ought to have civilian rights because they _really_ were nearly sentient; Sephiroth desperately wanted to knock him out with Masamune, but the memory of his friend's kindness the night before stayed his hand. A gift shop two ribs down sold novelty caramels and he was not ashamed to admit that he bought almost the entire stock in the hopes it would glue his Commander’s mouth shut.

They were allowed a small section of land just inside the door for a few gil, and Sephiroth busied himself with gathering local news while Genesis knelt down to retrieve their sleeping bags. Glancing back, the silver-haired man faltered as he watched his friend draw the brush he had given him out of his pack and place it on his sleeping bag with an expression that spoke volumes more than he had ever cared to know. It was an indulgent, warm expression...the kind he had been told over and over to avoid in his youth. Sapphire eyes caught his and Genesis raised an eyebrow in confusion, his mouth morphing into the smallest of frowns. Sephiroth was accosted by the thought that it was the prettiest mouth he’d ever seen.

And while he would've like to have said he walked away from the situation like it was nothing, such a statement would be untrue.

He fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: I will not be posting on weekends. Happy New Year!  
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Text at the beginning. Action at the end.

Genesis couldn't wait to get out of Bone Village. 

Over the years, he'd have liked to think he'd grown more partial to sleeping in strange situations and dealing with uncomfortable environments, but this was possibly the worst. Not because he was overly cold-though the frigid temperatures were nothing to sneeze at-but because the populace was just plain _weird_. It was difficult to get any kind of information out of them without discussing their archaeological ventures to a depth and detail that made him want to fall over and snore. As a child, he'd had somewhat of an interest in the old myths, but this was fucking ridiculous. He didn't care about the accelerated degradation of a fourth lateral rib due to their location, and he certainly didn't care about the possible mitochondria living in the cell of some behemoth that would never walk Gaia again. He'd barely skimmed through molecular biology with top marks, he had no desire to repeat it. Sephiroth seemed to be faring better than he was, but that was likely because the man had spent years listening to Hojo prattle on about who-knows-what in the labs. After a day of listening to an elderly paleontologist wax near-poetic on the apparently orgasmic state of the topsoil, Genesis left intel collection to Shinra's poster boy. It was-he reflected-probably the first time he'd acknowledged the man as infinitely more qualified for a task than he was. 

The first night had been strange in of itself. Sephiroth had disappeared around 1930 and didn't return until 0200, crawling into his sleeping bag and apparently passing out without a single word. Genesis-who had been impatiently waiting for a status update while the night slipped out from under his exhausted fingers-was more than irritated. _He_ spent the remainder of the dark hours quietly fuming over the injustice before realizing that he'd been the idiot who'd decided to 'wait up'...Sephiroth had given him no such orders. 

In truth, the memories of days' previous kept creeping back to haunt him. The thought that Sephiroth had never been physically intimate before had crossed his mind on several occasions. It was apparent in the way he moved-fluid yet vigilant, graceful but habitual. Sephiroth had all the trappings of an apex predator; territorial viciousness, unscrupulous pride, inherent cunning...but none of the drive to seek out a partner. Genesis was frankly surprised Shinra wasn't throwing every genetically perfect woman at him to make sure they had a steady line of successors. Explicit banning of sexual liaisons almost seemed counterproductive-let alone monstrous and dehumanizing. He had no idea how the man had survived puberty, though he presumed he had an intimate relationship with his right hand-or left, ambidextrous-at the very least. A part of him wanted to send an email off to Angeal, but he knew if Sephiroth ever found out he'd never confide in him again.

That brought him to another dumbfounding conundrum; _why_ had Sephiroth brought him into his confidence? The man was lukewarm on a good day, but lately his attitudes seemed to fluctuate between totally fridgid and erratically emotional. His comrade seemed to be fighting a total loss of control, and though he didn't like to admit it, Genesis didn't think he'd be able to manage the fallout. He was a damn good SOLDIER, but Sephiroth was a damn good SOLDIER times fifty. If his urges were violently inclined, he'd eventually be a red smear on the pavement. Then again, if a 'belated hormonal anomaly' meant that the General just needed a good fuck, he didn't think he'd mind being on the receiving end. Besides, if Sephiroth lost control in the wilderness, their options would be slim. He couldn't let him screw a mercenary, there was too much mako in his system. Genesis had seen the results of a SOLDIER losing control with an average citizen...it wasn't pretty. He also couldn't let him fuck a tree or a bogleech...that just wasn't a 'bro' thing to do and it would be just Sephiroth's luck to get some non-sentient up the duff. Interspecies urges were rare, but Sephiroth-in his unusually worshipful opinion-was rarer still.

A loud cacophony of intellectual debate jerked Genesis from his thoughts, and he watched with narrowed eyes as a pair of drunk archaeologists nearly fell into a fire pit before being pulled from their brawl by other, slightly better-minded friends. The canvas overlay above him crackled as a sharp gust of wind slithered through the flaps. Bone Village felt...stagnant. Despite the almost fever-minded research that went on during the day, he couldn't help but think of the place as a community frozen by time. He'd had yet to see anyone leave camp for more than a few hours, and when they returned it was usually with wild-caught food, kindling, rock, or lumber. What supplies the village had were hand-made and there was even a kiln for glassware and pottery. The residents showed little to no interest in the outside world and there were a few very young children who had no knowledge of Shinra at all. Here, he and Sephiroth were entities of a different world...and while anonymity was peaceful, it was also disconcerting.

The flap to their chamber rustled and Genesis pretended to be busy logging their mission as Sephiroth strode into the space looking decidedly irritated and smelling of fire smoke. While he might be better at diplomacy it was clear the man didn't get any more satisfaction from it than he did. Soil scraped against fabric as the General pulled his sleeping bag out of his duffel and began rummaging around. Glancing at the sky, Genesis was startled to find that it was nearly dusk. This made for their third sun entrenched in this hellhole, and he'd been desperately hoping to depart that day. He set down his log and watched as Sephiroth unbuckled his boots before placing them carefully out of the way. The weather wasn't cold enough for their thermal suits, but at night the wind raged to a point that both of them were more comfortable sleeping in their clothes. The air that was brought down from the cliffs had nowhere to go once it hit the valley floor, and the steady howl of eddying gusts was both awe-inspiring and haunting.

Genesis startled as a soft sparkling glow the color of new sunlight filled the room; glittering eerily against the backdrop of ivory bone. The materia in Sephiroth's palm was unlike anything he'd ever seen, it's predominant color a backdrop to thousands of others, many of which he'd never seen before. It had an unearthly, netherworld quality to it...and a psychic pull like a siren. Still, even as lovely as it was, something about it brought about a sense of indeterminate grief. Swallowing, Genesis found his voice.

"What _is_ that?"

Sephiroth blinked, his gaze sliding from the materia to Genesis and then back again. After a long moment, he stowed the tiny sphere in his vambrace and moved to roll out his sleeping bag.

"I don't know."

The redhead frowned and folded his arms, stretching his legs out and kicking one foot on top of the other.

"Where did you get it?"

Sinking onto his sleeping bag, his fellow SOLDIER appeared to gather his thoughts before replying.

"Three men passed this way maybe a week ago" Sephiroth began, tugging 'the brush'-as Genesis had christened it-out of his bag and gathering a thick strand of moonlight-colored hair between his fingers. "Nondescript, plain...wore heavy clothing of a darker shade, paid for lodging in supplies and gave common but likely false names."

"...Like?" Genesis prodded, earning himself a raised brow.

"Sky Mansfield, Jeneth Karr...Dachen Myrr."

"Damn" the blue-eyed man muttered. "I worked with four Skys as a First...and I think there's two in Accounting."

 "A child was playing with the materia near the salt marsh, I happened upon him going out to train. He claimed to have pick-pocketed one of them, _'the one with the cold eyes.'"_  

Genesis pulled himself into a cross-legged position.

"Have you tried activating it?"

Slowly, Sephiroth shook his head.

"...No. I'm not dexterous with materia, and summoning an unidentified one is risky even for a professional. I'd originally brought it back for you to activate, but I don't think it would be wise." 

Glancingat the vambrace that housed the mysterious crystallized mako, Genesis unsuccessfully fought the shiver that ran up his spine.

"It feels...wrong" he muttered. "It's beautiful, but wrong."

"Yes" Sephiroth said simply.

"Did anyone mention where the men went?"

"Evidently they split up and exited the Village in separate directions" was the murmured reply as his comrade-in-arms threw 'the brush' back into his duffel. "However, a hunter on his way home saw them regroup and head North."

"And there's only one thing that way" Genesis mused. "At least we know our intel is right." 

His companion grunted in assent, his gaze fixed on the far wall.

"We'll leave tomorrow" Sephiroth said, his voice distant and distracted. The redhead frowned.

"...Alright."

Silence reigned as each man contemplated his respective thoughts. Genesis returned to his phone to compile a Last Contact report and his silver-haired companion began an organizational campaign against his personal belongings. After a few minutes, the redhead startled somewhat as a sharp rattling sound filled the chamber. Sephiroth had paused, his hand hovering over something in his bag, his brow furrowed. Hastily pressing _'send'_ , Genesis tossed his phone to the side and watched as the General pulled a large prescription bottle out of his bag, his brow furrowed.

"You're the last person I'd think would need vitamins" Genesis joked, but a cold look from his companion sobered him.

"I didn't pack this" was the muttered reply. 

He frowned.

"Then who... _Hojo_ " he spat the name out like a curse, rising to sink down next to Sephiroth and peer over his shoulder. "Edimax...no...lithemorphyl" he mused. "You're losing hair??"

"Don't be ridiculous" his fellow SOLDIER snapped, peeling a carefully folded note off the front of the bottle. Green eyes narrowed as they swiftly scanned the missive, which was promptly crumbled into a ball and thrown across the chamber. "It's a suppressant."

Genesis made a face.

"For your...problem?" 

Sephiroth's bangs fluttered as he expelled a deep breath.

"No, for the chocobo we passed on the way here, it's obviously a sexual deviant." The man got up and retrieved Hojo's note as Genesis stared after him in shock and attempted to process the fact that this was the second time in his life he'd heard Shinra's poster boy tell a joke...let alone a halfway decent joke. "I should burn this, it was careless to throw it somewhere it could be found." 

The shouting of various research professionals gathered around their fires had increased in volume. Somewhere, a baby had woken and begun to wail. The blue-eyed SOLDIER grimaced and hastened to close the flap to their 'quarters', pausing to watch as four men rushed past, assumably to join the other nerds.

"I'll be glad to get out of this fucking calcium hovel" he muttered, tying off the canvas and turning to watch as Sephiroth activated a minor fire materia and let the slip of paper burn. "Are you going to take them?" 

More footsteps rushed by outside as Sephiroth's eyes flashed.

"No. Not if I can help it." 

Genesis nodded, unsure of how much he should say. 

The shouting had reached an earsplitting pitch, and he put an irritated palm to the ear facing the exterior. Sephiroth stiffened suddenly, his nostrils flaring as if scenting something brought in by the breeze that still circulated the space despite its closure. A high, tremulous scream split the air, along with a low, vibrating howl like that off a large wind instrument under several feet of water. Somewhere, a gun was fired, the sharp retort echoing off the cliffs to ricochet around the valley. Their discussion temporarily forgotten, both men threw themselves at the flaps to the chamber, spilling out onto the tightly-packed earth as a throng of panicked people rushed past them.

For a moment, Genesis was disoriented by the press of bodies; his gaze found face after panicked face...some with eyes glazed over in terror, others with a sort of grim resignation to their doom. Sephiroth had disappeared, vaulting the behemoth ribcage to gain a better vantage point. Drawing Rapier, he escaped the panicked mob and turned his gaze to the communal gathering area where the peat fires lay scattered; embers glinting in the dark as the sun disappeared beneath the massive loom of the cliffs above them. Smoke ghosted across the marsh like the march of hundreds of wraiths...writhing into columns of grey as the wind swirled around them and kicked them up into the air. There was another howl and a snapping noise as the ground beneath him shuddered, giving him but a moment to throw himself to the side before it exploded in all directions; giving forth the massive shape of an insectoid abomination. 

Eyes as black as pitch huddled close together against a triangular skull the shade of clay and covered in plated scales. Massive pincers hung from jaws slavering acidic saliva, dripping down onto the cold, barren earth to hiss against the discontinuous permafrost. Claws like that of a hideously deformed crustacean dangled from arms covered in rust-colored exoskeleton, and worse were its four legs; deceptively thin but devastatingly strong and fast. He had no memory of Ankheg colonies this far North, but a quick glance around proved that this one was alone...perhaps separated from a migrating column with the onset of winter. There was an upheaval of dust and ash and a soft hiss as Sephiroth landed to flank the creature, drawing Masamune as he did so. 

Glancing to the side, Genesis had to force himself to refocus on the battle in front of them as he was privy to the view of a young woman trying to crawl away...her leg bent at a horrible angle...her left side a tangled, ruinous ribbon of bleeding flesh. She had to have been thrown when it came out of the ground, he surmised, but a sharp upward swipe from a mottled leg forced him to push the thought from his mind. Somewhere, a man was shouting something that sounded like an entreaty, but he couldn't afford to lose focus. Ankhegs were attracted to the scent of blood, if they lost its focus even for a moment, the woman would lose her life. Rotating swiftly, he caught the back-end of one of those massive claws, the strength of the blow nearly making him lose his footing. Sephiroth was equally engaged but clearly not struggling. Glowing embers flew up into the air as they danced across the remains of one of the fires and Genesis cursed himself for leaving his boots in their room. His feet were blistering against the roiling heat of the peat fire-searing through his socks-but the mako in his veins made it a process of damage and regeneration...which wasn't any more pleasant. The cool relief of icy soil was a temporary balm before he was abruptly thrown onto his back, the only thing stopping him from being run through was the distraction of his comrade, who ghosted in front of him and lifted Masamune to take the brunt of the blow.

Abruptly, the creature appeared to pause, its focus shifting and Genesis felt a small modicum of despair as it backed away from them making a clicking sound in the back of its throat. Its next move was so swift Genesis was sure that he couldn't have stopped it, and Sephiroth's relative position put him at an impossible angle for intercept. The woman had made it perhaps three meters, but it was three meters too little. Her screams rent the air again as the beast descended, its claws ripping through what remained like a knife through butter. Sephiroth was up and moving before she died, but it wasn't enough. There was a massive shriek and an explosion that forced Genesis to close his eyes even as he rushed toward it. It came to his sudden understanding that his comrade had used a limit-break to attempt to head off the assault, but it came too late. The Ankheg was a bubbling, glutinous mass against the dark soil...but its victim was in no better shape. 

Rising from a crouch, Sephiroth appeared to struggle with himself before wrenching Masamune from the creature, wiping his sword on the grass with a hand that trembled but once and then resumed its action with a kind of robotic stiffness. A terrible, heartbreaking cry rent the air and they both stepped back to make room for the young man who rushed out onto the field, his eyes a mess of disbelief and despair.

 "Eida!! _Please_ no, Eida!"

Genesis turned, unable to watch as he sheathed Rapier and took a deep breath.

"That Ankheg was left here for us" he murmured. 

Sephiroth appeared to startle before nodding.

"Yes. They don't make their burrows this far North."

"I don't want to know how they got it here and then managed to have it stay underground until we arrived and made camp."

"It could have been summoned...if there's anything we've learned today, it's that people outside of Shinra are capable of making materia. Give it a manageable food supply and it would be an easy task."

"It takes power to maintain a Summon" Genesis fumed. "So how did they _leave_ and maintain a summon for a week?!"

"A High Summoner could retain the link...and if they're in the Sleeping Forest, his power would only be amplified by the energies there." 

The blue-eyed SOLDIER shook his head...uncertainty rising to clog his throat.

"I don't like this Seph. I mean...mercenaries we can deal with but there was no mention of Summoners in our briefing. We're walking into this partially blind. I thought they all immigrated to Wutai when Shinra started taking over."

"Most" his comrade agreed. "But-"

_"You!"_

To his credit, Genesis was not expecting to get punched in the face. 

If he had been, he would have rolled with the blow and not gotten his ethmoid broken. As it was, the fist that connected with his nose sent him reeling backwards before he recovered himself, clutching the affected area and swearing mightily. Even as mako worked to restore his bone structure, the man whose...lover? wife? _sister?_...was currently lying in pieces on the ground went flying; Sephiroth soaring after him with murder in his eyes. For a moment, Genesis could only stand there with blood trickling down his face as he tried to figure out why his fellow FIRST was going after a civilian. Then his training kicked in and he cursed before sprinting across the field, praying to the Goddess that he could stop the man before he did irreversible damage. A crowd of people had begun to gather around the carnage and they could not-could _not_ -afford to have a PR incident here. Not now. This was a research facility and violence done by SOLDIERS to research personnel could land both of them a dishonorable discharge...though he wasn't sure what Sephiroth's version of _discharge_ would be as he was apparently Shinra property and not really legally a person. They might just chop him into pieces for spare parts and cook up a new Sephiroth who didn't have such beautiful hair-and _why_ was he thinking like this when attempting tactical damage prevention anyway??

The man had landed sixty meters away and had apparently broken his arm but that didn't stop him from spewing potentially life-threatening curses at them.

"You killed her!! You could have saved her!! All you people do when you come here is _kill._ You're filthy rotten bastar- _mphff!_ "

"Sephiroth no!" Genesis yelled, as the man stretched a black-gloved hand over his face and began to squeeze.

He noted-with very little relief-that Masamune was still sheathed, but he wasn't sure if it was because Sephiroth had forgotten he had it or because he had some sort of psychotic 'tit for tat' reasoning and had decided to use his fists. He was forced to give up deliberation as he'd barreled into his friend and knocked him perhaps two feet sideways, landing on the frozen ground in an explosion of cold marsh grass and mud. The silver-haired man snarled and tried to throw him off, his superior strength nearly overcoming Genesis for a moment before he placed both palms against that broad expanse of chest and slammed him back down. Green eyes paled to a light aquamarine shot through with amethyst in their rage, a terrible look he didn't recognize at all flashing across those perfect features. 

"Stop it! Sephiroth, _think_ about what you're doing!!" Another growl, another push and his footing in their tussle was becoming increasingly precarious. Mustering every bit of authority his drill-sergeant had hammered into his head, Genesis threw the man back down and brought his face as close as he possibly could without touching him. "Soldier!" he barked. _"Know your place!!"_  

Sephiroth stopped abruptly, the long-fingered hands that had gripped his arms so tightly falling limply to his side as his eyes faded back to their customary emerald green. They focused on him, pupils widening until they nearly overtook the iris. Then...he let his head fall back, baring his neck in a gesture that brought Genesis up short as his friend went utterly still.

"Sir" he said quietly.

The air seemed to get sucked from his lungs. In that moment, Genesis hated Shinra with a ferocity that made him tremble. The rage that soared into his veins choked him like the cloying smoke that swirled around them. The man had long since gotten up and stumbled off, spitting profanities back at them...all fell on deaf ears. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to drag Sephiroth off the ground instead of enfolding him in a hug. He was sure the man would not appreciate it once the conditioned response to his command wore off. Genesis straightened as they were approached by the project manager...Callium Whitfield...if his memory served him correctly. The man was in his late sixties, tall but graying at his temples with kind eyes that glittered behind large horn-rimmed glasses. Those eyes were filled both with sadness, authority, and an undertone of pitying understanding.

"Gentleman, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you both to leave." 

Swallowing thickly, Genesis nodded. Beside him, Sephiroth stirred and blinked, extricating himself from his support in one fluid motion.

"Thank you for accommodating us, Professor." 

They were both silent as they exited the field amidst a sea of accusing stares. The man who had punched Genesis was sitting on a log getting his arm set by a physician and he sent them a glare filled with vitriol. His face was a mess of bruises shaped like fingerprints. As they gathered their things inside the chamber, the redhead watched as Sephiroth drew the prescription bottle out of his bag and stared at it for a moment, his gaze expressionless, before unscrewing the lid and downing a suppressant with a kind of resigned bitterness.

"I'm sorry, Genesis."

The blue-eyed SOLDIER exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Seph...it's not your fault. You...you can't help it."

"I could have stayed behind. I could have disobeyed-" the man shut up, his mouth snapping shut.

A new kind of understanding bloomed in Genesis' chest, and he dropped his bag, crossing the space between them to put a hand on his friend-his _friend's_ -shoulder.

"It's not your fault" he said firmly, and for a moment, hope flashed behind those beautiful eyes before being suffocated by the cold exterior the man forced himself to exude. 

They left Bone Village come midnight, their minds seemingly heavier than their bags...and Genesis could only pray that things would not get any worse. He felt foolish doing so, but maybe the Planet would care more than Shinra did. It seemed fitting, that he might place some hope in the Earth when everything he had worked for seemed to be as twisted and impossible as anything he'd ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurgh. I think the hardest part about stuff like this is managing the HTML. it makes me want to scream. Hope you all had a great Holiday. 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	6. Chapter 6

Acknowledging that he had erred in mission parameters was much more difficult than Sephiroth had ever anticipated.

Shame was an emotion he’d vowed to put behind him when he entered the SOLDIER program. In Hojo’s laboratory, it was an every-day sensation; the fear of being less-than-perfect ate at him like a virus. Every movement, every gesture he made was taken apart and analyzed. By day he was observed by a mad scientist whose only goal was to create a perfect specimen. At night, he was monitored by a team of somnologists and security guards. Before he was transferred to the President’s floor, the only choices Sephiroth was privy to were when he slept, when he used the facilities, and when he had a haircut. His diet was managed by Hojo and a nutritionist, and his clothes were a set of two pairs of grey scrubs that he exchanged every other day, along with a set of black socks and white sneakers. He wore a tracking bracelet twenty-four hours a day; it was only removed for mako treatment and surgical procedures. During that time, he’d failed only two tests; one came when he’d been denied food for three weeks and the other when he’d been a tank filled with unprocessed mako for four days.

Genesis was very careful not to bring up the previous days’ events, but the thought was in his eyes, words, and gestures. He asked Sephiroth questions that were simple to answer-(how far did he estimate they were from the forest? Was their ration supply adequate?)-and spoke of things that didn’t require very much thought-(regulation 146x was up for review per request of Lazard, the simulation room was getting an upgrade during their absence). Loveless was conspicuously absent; the redheaded SOLDIER didn’t quote any of it and there was no mention of the text in any context at all. If it were someone other than Genesis, Sephiroth would have been relieved. Decorum he could deal with, he was versed in appropriate forms of field verbiage…it was something every FIRST studied through till their third year. That being said, because it _was_ Genesis, it only made him feel-if possible-worse. His actions had forced his comrade to self-censorship, and the truth of it left him hollow.

The suppressants-to their credit-worked perfectly. The electric, static-like irritation Sephiroth had felt steadily increasing in his system was gone. He no longer felt the urge to do inchoate amounts of violence to anything and everyone who irritated him. Despite that, the uncertainty coupled with melancholy remained; amplified now that he had no destructive emotions to mask it with. He felt his strangeness keenly and closed himself off all the more for it. It was incredibly difficult to mask his moroseness as professionalism, especially with someone who knew him so well. Before Bone Village, Genesis would likely have taken issue with the distance between them, but now he seemed to accept it with a kind of weary resignation. A part of Sephiroth knew this was temporary. Their focus now was to accomplish the mission with no more mishaps, but once they got back to HQ he would have hell to pay. The occasional irritated glares sent his way told him that, and while he was unhappy with himself for the actions that had led them to such extremes, he was equally glad that he’d not managed to quell the Commander’s indomitable spirit.

“Colder than the backside of a frost ele” came the irritated mutter next to him, and he watched in mild amusement as Genesis stomped his feet and cupped his hands over his mouth; plumes of warm breath escaping from between his fingers and dissipating into the chilly air.

“It might be prudent to start using the thermal suits” Sephiroth commented, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and kneeling on the frozen tundra.

“Might” was the waspish response as the redhead appeared to hesitate before crouching next to him, rubbing his palms together and keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

Before them was the vast expanse of the Sleeping Forest; white trees stretched up to grasp fruitlessly at a steely sky that was cold and forbidding. Arboreal shadows glittered with an ethereal turquoise light; flitting in and out between branches like so many ghosts only to disappear when one looked too closely. A low, barely-discernable hum seemed to emit from the depths; like the buzz of a broken transmission. Their electronics had gone haywire perhaps ten and a half miles outside of the forest and Sephiroth had ordered them shut down so that they wouldn’t receive any false interference. There was no telling how magnetics would work once they were deeply entrenched and he didn’t like the idea of following a dead end to who knows where. Their first task was to look for any signs of the mercenaries’ tracks, but a light snow had fallen perhaps three hours before and he knew their chances of picking up a viable trail were slim. Here and there were evidences of the passage of various wildlife, but all of it stopped before entering the forest. Animals evidently had no desire to make a home for themselves among such eerie perpetuity.

“We should set camp here” Genesis said idly, as if speaking to no one in particular. “It’s late, and I don’t want to set a watch tonight.”

“You don’t think it necessary?” Sephiroth asked, somewhat surprised.

This earned him a glare.

“We’re the most dangerous beings on the Planet” was the dry reply. “No monster in its right mind is going to attack us unless it’s suicidal. What’s out here doesn’t scare me…that-” he nodded at the forest. “ _-That_ makes me nervous. It feels wrong and I don’t want to spend any longer in there than we have to. There’s a reason people disappear in these parts and I’m not keen to find out why.”

He couldn’t argue with his Commander’s logic, so he set about pulling the tent from his duffel; eventually putting Masamune to the side so he could maneuver the stakes into the icy ground. Around them night was swiftly approaching; the colors of the setting sun a dim yellowish glow behind the iron grey of the skies. A flock of birds approaching from the East veered sharply to avoid the forest, their cries echoing against the barren crags behind them as they circled ‘round and darted South. Genesis was tossing a fire materia between his palms, whispering partial activation centrals so it briefly flared and then dimmed in his cupped hands like the beat of a heart. Sephiroth was not so cold as to resort to such frivolous manners of staying warm, but he admired the discipline needed behind it nevertheless. Materia were finicky for him on a good day, and many less-experienced SOLDIERS had met an untimely demise attempting to control earth-elements. Wutaiians called it magic, but he liked to think of it as a chemical reaction. You had to have an incredible amount of mental prowess to manipulate natural forces like Genesis could. If he were honest with himself, it was rather disturbing. Watching an entire squadron of enemy troops get wiped out by a wall of roaring flames was jarring; he’d never forget the first time he’d seen the redhead do it. The screams of dying men still echoed in his ears and while Genesis was proud of the victory, the immense amount of death he had singlehandedly caused haunted his eyes for months.

Letting a section of tarp slide between his fingers, Sephiroth reflected that there were downsides to being on the front lines. FIRSTS were designed to be killing machines, but it didn’t come without consequences. Angeal’s first mission almost destroyed him. He’d been sectioned to the East, against a band of about six-hundred insurgents that were violently against Shinra’s control. The battle came to a head in a major town filled with civilians. Sephiroth received orders to take over when the news came that his fellow FIRST was having a mental breakdown. He’d found Angeal in the middle of the town square covered in blood. Half his platoon was dead, and the other half had been captured. There were sixty-nine bystander causalities; eighteen of them under the age of majority. Later, when the pall of horror that surrounded him had worn off somewhat, the dark-haired FIRST confessed that upon returning to HQ he’d packed his bags and started to leave when Genesis talked him out of it. At the time, Sephiroth couldn’t understand his guilt. He’d been killing since he’d taken SECOND; he was younger, much more frivolous with the value of life, and there were thousands of deaths upon his head by that time already. He was used to blood and war, but his friends were not.

“Tseng comm’ed about a few hours ago, he said if we don’t apprehend the mercenaries within two weeks we’re to exit the forest and give a status update, along with anything we discover.” Genesis shifted next to Sephiroth, eyeing the nearly-erected tent with an expression of resignation. “This isn’t going to be comfortable.”

“I don’t imagine anyone joins SOLDIER to be comfortable” Sephiroth remarked, immediately regretting it when he saw how shuttered his comrade’s face became. “But you’re right.”

The redhead eyed him suspiciously for a minute before his expression softened somewhat and he nodded jerkily. Setting the final stake down, the silver-haired man tossed his bag inside before crawling after it and pulling out his sleeping bag and thermals. The snowsuits were anything but practical, with a multitude of straps and buckles that made getting out of them almost impossible. He’d caught one of the Turks joking that if you were going to put on a regulation heatsuit you might as well forgo pissing for a week. Once they put them on, neither of them would disrobe until they were finished with the mission. It wasn’t exactly hygienic, but there were no other opportunities available to them and frostbite would become a real nocturnal possibility this far North. Already, the open part to his coat was becoming uncomfortable when the wind hit his chest just-so, and though Genesis was completely covered he didn’t have half as much mako in his system.

The man in question had entered the tent directly after him and was shaking a self-heating ration pack with one hand and plucking at the zip-tie bundling his snowsuit with the other. The scent of coffee filled the room a few moments later and Sephiroth accepted the biodegradable cup handed his way with a feeling of profound gratefulness. They dressed in silence, each taking inventory of his own belongings while they waited for night to swallow them. The wind picked up after a few minutes and a soft hiss against the tarp indicated that it had started snowing. After a time, his fellow FIRST left the tent with a Detection materia clutched in the palm of his hand; goggles strapped to his forehead like a second set of rubicund eyes. The sphere in question would place a sensory perimeter around the tent and set off an alarm if it was breached. While Genesis did that, Sephiroth attempted to find a place to put Masamune in the crowded space, eventually just laying the sword down lengthwise next to his sleeping bag and wrapping his leathers around it so he wouldn’t eviscerate himself in his sleep. As quickly as he could regenerate dermis, he doubted he’d survive being sliced in half from stem to stern. Activating the bracers on the thermal suit, the General began the tedious job of transferring the materia from his every-day armor to what he was currently wearing. As he was finishing his task, his second-in-command reappeared looking distinctly snow-burnt and irritated.

“Let me see the materia the kid gave to you.”

Sephiroth frowned, already apprehensive of the mysterious spherical mako he’d carried with him from Bone Village. Hesitating but a moment, he retrieved the object and dropped it into the proffered glove with a feeling of distinct reluctance.

“I wouldn’t do anything frivolous with it” he said flatly.

Sapphire eyes crinkled with sarcastic amusement.

“I’m not going to stick it up my ass if that’s what you’re implying” was the snappish retort. Long fingers closed over the materia and Sephiroth ignored his comrade’s flagrant vulgarity in favor of observation. “Heavy” was the murmured comment.

The space flared with luminescence as Genesis spread his hand wide; his face a canvas of both light and shadow as glittering colors burst forth. The redhead took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his lips moving soundlessly. The materia appeared to shudder minimally, rising perhaps half an inch and beginning to slowly rotate. The silver-haired SOLDIER leaned back instinctively, fingers bunching in the fabric of his sleeping bag. A lock of hair caught on the edge of index finger and thumb and he flicked it away irritably. The drop in room temperature was sudden and apparent; even in his thermal suit, Sephiroth could feel the abrupt chill that permeated his veins. Genesis went deathly pale and the materia hovering over his outstretched fingers flared like a supernova before going ominously black. It wasn’t the usual reflective darkness of a storm materia…more a depthless, roiling noir that seemed to suck the very life out of the air around it. A low hum-much like that of the Sleeping Forest-began to emit from it; like the strains of a black box from deep underwater. Sephiroth felt alarm sweep through his body like tidal wave, his muscles tensing as his fight or flight response immediately went straight to _flight_.

A slow, insidious green light began to seep from the sphere; like radioactive waste spilling over from a chemical dump gone irreparably wrong. It began to take form…tall, impossibly tall and yet hunched in the little space provided it. Before it, a smaller figure…like that of a very young child with a gaze that blazed with a chilling yet powerful white light. The redhead gasped, the entirety of his body going stiff as his eyes rolled back in his head.

He didn’t think.

In hindsight, it probably would have been better to approach with caution, but even SOLDIER’s stringent habit of hammering regulation into their initiates couldn’t stop Sephiroth from jumping to the aid of a fellow recruit. His hand shot out to knock the materia out of his hands and the minute his fingers made the connection his mind felt a powerful yank forward; as if whatever had been Summoned was trying to strip his consciousness from his body and into whatever power had manifested from the activation. There were a thousand, aching screams like that of the young being massacred echoing behind his eyes and he gritted his teeth…willing himself to find some sort of mental platform on which to ground himself. He had little to no experience with this. There were rumors-of course-of psychic and metaphysical materia attached to the Lifestream. Mako itself was the manifestation of Gaia’s spirits, and SOLDIER heedlessly played with it, _used_ it to power a massive city practically floating thousands of feet above the ground. He’d always known that Gaia was powerful, he just hadn’t understood _how_ powerful. And yet still something in him resisted her…something of himself that couldn’t be merely taken in by the elemental deluge that was now hammering his psyche like some maddened mental bludgeon.

_’Help us!’_

It was one of them. One of the children that had been taken, he was sure of it. The shrill cry pierced him to the very depths of his soul, its desperation an ever-reverberating echo in his veins. Others joined it in supplication and the cacophony was almost too much to bear. He was distantly aware that he had bitten his lip hard enough to split it, the warm trickle of hemoglobin nebulous in the back of his mind. The fingers not touching the materia scrabbled at rough tarp under his hand. The vision before him grew stronger; and he saw her-the child-curled in a ball in that vast expanse of blazing impermanence…impossibly pale and translucent with sobs shook her tiny form. He could feel every facet of her pain and confusion, and while the greater part of him was repulsed by it, a smaller, more insidious iota of his existence reveled in her agony. _Here_ was where the beings of this pathetic planet were brought down…by mechanisms of their own creation. Helpless, faceless and unknowing they played with powers beyond their ability to comprehend or control and _with their young._ This was why he- _she_ -had come, to annihilate their greed, their pathetic aspirations for limitless power-

Shuddering, Sephiroth wrenched himself from such thoughts, focusing only on the action of removing himself and Genesis from whatever it was that so wanted to consume them. Beyond the terror of the children was a greater, more insidious force that was blindly ravenous. He could relate to such terrible hunger on a primal, inhumane scale that was-admittedly-frightening. It was everlasting and eternal, like that of a predator that could never fill its belly with enough sustenance in the dead of winter. Yet still it was incoherent and not so clever as he, not so clever as _she_ …though he couldn’t say who she was, only that she despised what was before her and what it was trying to do to him. Her presence showed no care for Genesis, and it was that simple truth that kept him from succumbing to her will entirely. She would save him, certainly; annihilate what was before him but it would also destroy his friend…and his conscious could not condone that. He was still very much himself, whatever force both protected and compelled him was far, far away.

It took a long time.

The tumultuous symphony of youthful agony was distracting, both alluring and terrible at once but he forced himself to ignore it in order to remove both himself and his fellow SOLDIER from the situation they were in. Sephiroth bitterly reflected that he should never have allowed Genesis to take the materia. It was inveigling and deceptive even at a distance. His training had taught him better. For anyone else-anyone _other_ than him-it would have been an impossible feat; but he accomplished it. The sphere of mako shattered against the hardness of the frozen ground and it was there-staring down at it-that he acknowledged that there were things that only he-Sephiroth-could do. And as the thought dissipated into the dregs of his mind a soft laugh, like the coil of a snake prepared to strike, hissed across his psyche as he felt the presence that had come to his defense recede;

_’You are **not** Sephiroth, you are not what they name you…’_

And then all was quiet.

Well, as quiet as it could be when Genesis suddenly took a deep, gulping breath and stumbled outside to be violently sick. Shaken from his reverie, the silver-haired man rose to follow, lifting the tent flap to catch the redhead’s shoulder as he slumped to his knees. The snow had mostly let up and the sky above them was filled with thousands of stars. Behind them, the Sleeping Forest gave a ghostly, effervescent glow to backdrop of velvety night. He couldn’t rightly say what time it was, well past midnight at least, by the position of the moons. Sephiroth waited with a kind of furious patience as his comrade recovered himself, running trembling fingers through scarlet hair before diving back into the tent. There was an ominous, billowing silence between them as he watched his friend curl up against the side of the tent; his chin on his knees as he stared sightlessly ahead.

“What _possessed_ you to do that?!”

His voice came out stronger than he’d intended, shot through with emotions he didn’t care to acknowledge or analyze. Genesis flinched, his eyelids lowering as the full force of his anger was laid bare.

“I-I don’t know. I was only going to look at it but then I heard…I heard _something_.”

“You heard ‘something’” Sephiroth said flatly.

_“Yes”_ the desperation in the redhead’s voice made him relent somewhat. “I heard them…the-the _children_ and I had to see, had to-“

Genesis shuddered and the wild, despairing look in his eyes was enough to let Sephiroth know that the man regretted what he had done.

“Do you understand any of it?” he murmured.

“Their souls…oh _Gaia_ you smashed their souls!”

That velvety voice had risen to a shriek and Sephiroth moved without thinking, threading his fingers through Genesis’ and bringing their palms to the ground in what he hoped was reassuring gesture. He was silent for a while, letting the man before him regain himself.

“It was the only way I knew to break the Summon” he said quietly after a while. “I’m not-I don’t know about things like this, Genesis. We were lucky that the mako retained physical form and didn’t just manifest and dissipate the vessel entirely.”

“I know” was the muffled response. “I know Seph, I’m sorry. I just-I just didn’t think it was this bad.”

“What are we dealing with” Sephiroth said calmly, switching to what he hoped was professional tone.

Thankfully, the mechanical nuance of his speech seemed to soothe his second in command.

“They have a Summoner alright” was the bitter reply. “Like I thought, probably more than one. Only, trapping souls takes science…technology that even the wealthiest of the populace doesn’t have. I don’t know how they did it. They’d have had to break into the Processing Labs at HQ. You couldn’t get into that room with thirty tanks.”

The General frowned.

“You think this was an inside job” he said slowly.

“It _had_ to have been” was the desperate response. “Seph, this is dark stuff, _horrible_ stuff. This is Necromancer territory, there hasn’t been a necromancer on Gaia for hundreds of years. I don’t even understand the motive behind it! I mean, if it had been the souls of someone higher up, of administration, of _adults_ -!..,I could at least piece it together as terrorism but these were kids! What motive does Shinra or anyone have to trap the souls of children??”

Sephiroth thought for a moment.

“Maybe it was a test” he said finally. “Maybe they wanted to see if it would work.”

A hysterical laugh was his only reply.

“No, no don’t play that corporate shit with me here Sephiroth. You know you felt that-that _other_ behind them.”

He paused, weighing his words.

“What if…what if the…the ‘other’ is needed to trap the souls?”

“It didn’t want to trap them, it wanted to _eat_ them” the redhead said bitterly. “And I have no fucking clue what was stopping it from just...just us encountering it alone, why it hadn’t consumed them long before.”

“The souls could have been there to lure whoever else stumbled into its trap” the silver-haired man said stubbornly. “No one in their right mind would activate a black materia emitting soul-consuming nuances. Children don’t have strong presences in the Lifestream. Maybe it knew that they wouldn’t be enough to sate it.”

“Then what stopped it from taking us?” Genesis whispered. “Why are we still here?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. “I felt something else…something…at first I thought it was…but then I read her intent and it was worse than whatever was inside that materia.”

He hesitated.

The idea of admitting to hearing the entity’s voice did not appeal to him. Even in a half-mad state, he’d been able to tell that whatever was trying to help him didn’t care for life at all. Genesis was frightened enough already, and he’d never seen him frightened before. Sephiroth wouldn’t risk alienating himself from his comrade by confessing his observations. Not when the sphere was destroyed and both presences gone. they couldn’t have any more space between them on this mission than there already was.

“Maybe it was Gaia.”

Slowly, his friend shook his head.

“No” he said in a low voice. “It wasn’t her. It was angrier, a lot angrier. There was so much _hatred_ in it. It didn’t just want souls, it wanted the Planet. Wanted to see it destroyed.” There was another long stretch of silence, and Sephiroth didn’t deign to break it this time. A finger touching his lips startled him. “You’re bleeding” was the distracted remark, and he couldn’t help but notice how Genesis’ gaze lingered on his mouth even as his hand fell. “This is so much bigger than us” he said quietly. “We’ll get these mercenaries, because I think that’s what they are. Maybe a Summoner but not the one that made that materia. If we have to kill them, we will. I don’t have any thoughts of mercy at this point. We’ll do what we came to do and then we’ll go back to HQ and report this and it’ll be out of our hands. I want _nothing_ to do with this, and I understand why you had such a bad feeling about it in the first place.”

And with that, the redhead pulled his hand away-allowing his fingertips to linger on Sephiroth’s for a moment-before opening his sleeping bag and turning so his back was facing him. The green-eyed SOLDIER spent a minute gazing at the soft slope of his friend’s neck with a bereft feeling he’d not experienced before. Then, as if waking from a dream, Sephiroth gathered up the remains of the shattered materia and took them outside to scatter them in the snow; watching as they were swept away by the wind. He spent a long night staring at the starlight that was trickling in through the tarp, alone with his thoughts.

Alone with thoughts of her, and who he really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: PLEASE let me know if I am doing too much of anything and not enough of another (other than 'can they just do the sweaty salsa already'  
> ?') I know I can be somewhat sparse with dialogue in favor of painting a scene or moving forward with plot. 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	7. Chapter 7

Cold, dark, musty, wet, and barren.

Genesis could safely say that those five words pretty well summarized their experience of the Sleeping Forest so far. Yeah, the glowing foliage was neat for the first few hours, but it didn’t change that fact that once you realized the bioluminescence didn’t _do_ anything cool, it was a done deal. He’d never before felt claustrophobic in a place so undeniably vast; it was an unsettling feeling. There was no wildlife save for perhaps the ugliest birds he had ever seen darting in between the trees every now and again. In appearance they were much like vultures; with massive bulbous eyes, spindly legs, and humongous black-feather plumes. To add insult to injury they were inedible, at least to Genesis; he experienced a vicious allergic reaction that would have been fatal without the use of epinephrine. Sephiroth suffered no ill effects, but that was neither impressive nor surprising. Needless to say, Genesis forced himself to acknowledge that ration packs were his only option.

While the forest was empty of almost all animal presence, there was no way anyone would call it lifeless. The air seemed to crackle with energy that was both familiar and foreign. Genesis was sensitive to elemental nuances, it was what made him good with materia. Gaia’s signatures were everywhere on every continent but here they seemed to coalesce into something bigger. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it sentient, but it was certainly alert and observant. Genesis was used to being observed; even hunted, but the watchful somnolence of the trees was something he’d never felt before. There was a distinct feeling of unwantedness; like that of a child venturing into a forbidden room. It was more than the forest, Gaia didn’t want them there, and it deeply disturbed him.

They ventured perhaps forty miles per day…thirty if they got a late start. A first, both men had despaired of finding a trial, the snow having falling thick and fast during the few hours of sleep they’d gotten before entering. On a whim, Genesis suggested they start at the least likely place any sensible person would go; in an area thick with cream-colored thorns and brambles. It had been their saving grace. The chosen path gave way to evidence of previous passage, a broken limb here…remnants of a fire there. Sometimes there was a span of perhaps fifty miles between markers, and there were moments when Genesis feared they had lost the trail entirely. This fear was intermingled with hope, because he truly had no idea what they were walking into. He didn’t doubt his abilities, and certainly didn’t doubt Sephiroth…but he was a mediocre mage at best, and he was certainly no summoner. The Sleeping Forest was thick with magic, and anyone who knew how to wield it would have a terrible advantage over them.

Genesis discovered his gift with manipulating mako very early in his training. Rather, he was forced to use a fire materia when confronted with an ice elemental that thought it would be nice to give him full-body frostbite. Untrained, he burned down three-quarters of a section of barracks and was given sentry duty for four months. A Sergeant saw his potential and took him under his wing for a time, educating him in the ability to control and channel his abilities until he saw fit to declare him somewhat competent. It was what had caught the eye of many of his superiors. A young SOLDIER who could cast a fully formed Firaga was nothing to be sneezed at. At the time, he’d taken an obnoxious amount of pride in his abilities, to the point where Angeal had to knock him down to size several times. Later, when he learned the cost of having such power, he realized that it was neither here nor there…simply another tool that Shinra could use in their favor. His abilities made him powerful, but it also made him a ‘frontliner’…placed at the beginning precipice of every encounter in order to wipe out as many enemies as possible in a short amount of time. As a FIRST, he had the ability to choose when he used materia and when he didn’t…his sword skill was nearly as good, but the memory of the deaths he had caused still haunted his dreams.

“They know we’re following them.”

It was their tenth day enmired. Sephiroth was kneeling next to the remains of yet another fire, green eyes narrowed; Genesis tugged irritably at the collar to his thermal suit. The air was almost warm enough for him to be uncomfortable, but he gave no voice to his aggravation. The energy-laden atmosphere around them was starting to weigh on him. More and more he found himself distracted, gazing off into shadows as Sephiroth continued their task. A weariness that had nothing to do with how far they had traveled was slowly seeping into his bones. The sensation was insidious…pervasive, he woke feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all and his thoughts were cloudy and discontent. If Sephiroth noticed he didn’t say anything, but he’d slowly started taking over the majority of the night’s watch, and Genesis didn’t dare to fathom how he was managing to stay upright. Rubbing bleary eyes, the redhead searched frantically for some type of coherent response.

“…What makes you say that?”

The General paused, his gaze focused far into the distance.

“Someone trying to hide wouldn’t leave traces like this. It’s too easy.”

Genesis privately thought the whole affair had been anything but easy...but he didn’t say so aloud.

“Not every escapee is as brilliant as the other” he said dryly, ruffling his hair with an idle hand.

“We’ve already established that these are more than mere mercenaries” was the contemplative reply. “Neither of us should rule out the possibility of walking into a trap.” The silver-haired man stood, his gaze lingering on Genesis’ face as he did so. “You…do not look well.”

This startled a laugh out of him, more from the fact that he must look like absolute shit if Sephiroth had noticed than anything else. He gestured despairingly.

“The Forest is taking a lot from me” he said hoarsely. “It’s hard to explain.” The redhead closed his eyes. “It…it’s here” he muttered, laying a palm against his chest; the other he lifted to his head, extending the index finger to tap against his temple. “And here.”

He exhaled slowly as cool but familiar fingers lifted the hand over his heart away. They were known to him because of war…of injury and the necessity of close proximity. Sephiroth rarely removed his gloves, but Genesis knew the digits beneath them were long, slender and pale…like the shock of ivory against black velvet. He couldn’t feel skin because he himself still wore his gloves, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Warm breath ghosted over his cheeks and he shuddered somewhere small…somewhere inside. Opening his eyes gifted him with a blaze of emerald, soft with concern but still cold, distant, and alien. That perfect mouth was open slightly, not due to desire…but because of the need to observe. 

Sephiroth was infuriatingly ignorant to the intimacy of his closeness, it was damnably unfair. And Genesis could shatter that heartbreaking innocence simply by leaning forward a few inches-Gaia-he _ached_ to do it, but even he had limits. The man trusted him too much, and he would not squander that trust by stealing a kiss; perhaps even a _first_ kiss. Swallowing, the redhead cast his gaze downwards, to the fall of silver hair over one broad shoulder as he reigned in his desires. Exhaustion didn’t help him at all, he was less cognizant of his reactions yet distinctly aware of the fact that even the smallest gesture could give him away. By the time he’d cleared his mind, Sephiroth had stepped away and was pacing the perimeter of the fire, oblivious to his mental struggle. It was near midday, but the meager Northern sun was no competition for the intense luminosity around them. The only way to truly tell the time was by counting hours, and Genesis was slowly starting to lose track.

“I feel it too.”

The Commander startled somewhat, drawn from his musing by his fellow SOLDIER’s voice. Sephiroth wasn’t looking at him, though it was hard to tell through the curtain of moonlight-colored hair that obscured his face.

“….What?”

“The forest” was the clipped response. “I don’t think it’s as strong as what you're experiencing, but I still sense it.”

“Does it make you feel like you haven’t slept in a month?”

The younger man shook his head.

“No. It merely clouds my judgement, and not enough for me to consider passing command over to you.”

“Some of us get all the luck” Genesis grumbled, tugging irritably at his neck-warmer. “We should head out, they could be close.”

It was an egregiously optimistic statement, to be sure. The fire was stone cold, indicative of at least nine to ten hours of passage. There was no telling if they would catch up to their targets within a day or a month. Additionally, there was also the niggling fact that few people could avoid SOLDIER for very long. 2nds mastered tracking by their second year, usually sooner, and there were no cases of adversaries escaping Shinra's grasp unless they were taken in by the Wutaiin government. ‘Two 1sts floundering around in the wilderness’ sounded like the beginning of a bad pub joke, but it was the reality of their situation. Genesis hated being at loose ends, it was a great testament to their adversaries that they hadn't been caught already. 

“Halt.”

Genesis suppressed an eye roll at his superior’s use of field lingo and turned to raise and eyebrow at Sephiroth, who was kneeling on the ground yet again. He sobered, however, when he saw what the man was looking at. There was a large, dark stain on the pale soil spread out in all directions. It was the color of the inside of a rose and the faint scent of copper lingered in the air. Taking a deep breath, the redhead attempted to clear the seemingly endless mass of cobwebs coalescing in his brain. He knew blood. _'Intimately’_ was too strong a word for him to use, but he'd been around it more than he cared to consider. Here, in the crystalline perpetuity of the forest the deep red spillage seemed wrong to a degree that shook him to his soul. Surrounded by clear, alabaster trees and glittering light, it was a necrotic stain on an already alien landscape.

A sensation of imminent danger threatened to choke him; grabbing his instincts by the throat and screaming at him to _run_. Genesis couldn't control the miniscule but panicked exhalation that forced its way out of his throat. Any normal citizen without mako in their blood wouldn't have heard it, but Sephiroth did. Emerald eyes snapped to his and there was a flicker of something behind them... something predatory that the redhead didn't particularly like. This faded as the General's expression morphed into that of fleeting concern, discomfort at being faced with a comrade who was obviously struggling in some way and having no idea what to do with it, and then a sort of bewildered helplessness before going blank once more.

“Genesis…”

He swallowed and forced his panic down, acknowledging his lack of sleep and the virulent atmosphere of the forest. This was a consequence of emotional weakness, nothing else. Genesis had been compromised before they even set foot under the shadows of the trees, from that blasted death materia that felt like it was sucking out his soul. He was fairly sure it had been trying to take something from him... something vital, and that it had succeeded somewhat, no matter that it was dead or not...if such things really did die. Hollander would have a fit if he was aware of his current mental state but there was nothing to be done about it this far from civilization. 

“It looks like they dragged...whoever it was North” he replied, carefully schooling his expression. 

Sephiroth hesitated, obviously torn between directly confronting Genesis with the issue the redhead was trying to avoid and adhering to mission parameters. In the end, duty won out over camaraderie. 

“Assuming they fought amongst themselves, who could have done this?”

That was an easy answer. 

“Only a magic-wielder would do something this flashy” he replied, crouching and tracing the edge of the bloodstain with a gloved finger. A slight tingle beneath his palms affirmed his suspicion, though it did nothing to ease his mind. “Whatever they're doing, they're utilizing techniques I'm not familiar with. There's no such thing as an eviscerating materia.”

The General's lips thinned as his expression grew grave. 

“...We don't know what they might use against us.” Hesitating but a moment, Genesis nodded slowly. “We could always…”

The air hung thick between them, the words _'turn back’_ and _'call for backup’_ were ominous truths in the redhead’s mind. He had never, ever heard tell of Sephiroth suggesting they might be biting off more than they could chew...it was both baffling and chilling. 

“We can't” he spat, the words poisonous on his tongue even as he spoke them aloud. “We're almost out to the sea and if we lose them there's a good chance we'll never find them again.”

Again the man before him hesitated, the uncertainty in his features doing nothing for Genesis’ confidence. Then a look of resigned determination settled across the silver-haired man's face and he nodded curtly. Rising, his eyes followed the trail of blood into the shadows of the trees.

“If one or more of them is injured it will give us an advantage” Sephiroth commented, his eyes narrowed. “Weapons out, follow my lead.”

It was several miles before the sounds of human presence required them to be more watchful and cautious than before. Strangely, Genesis felt more clear-headed than he had in weeks, a bizarre sense of euphoric clarity overtaking the befuddled, stasis-like sensation that had haunted his mind for days on end. This should-of course-have been his first sign that something was wrong, but he was already in the throes of blissful ignorance and simply brushed it off as adrenaline. His comrade-in-arms, however, was growing more and more agitated. Movements that were once graceful and fluid became jerky and tense, like that of a hunter about to strike. In normal circumstances, it would have been more than enough for the redhead to call for halt, but he was too distracted and giddy to do so. In the back of his mind, something-or someone- was screaming that everything was _wrong_ , but he couldn't be bothered to heed the warning. Ahead, the light of a fire flickered, green and blue against the backdrop of crystalline trees and shivering light. 

“It's the color” he muttered, half to himself and half to Sephiroth. “Fire shouldn't be that color.”

The General hissed back something sharp and unintelligible, the words caught behind a tongue evidently incapable of anything but incoherency.  
Sliding behind the trunk of an overly large tree, the redhead counted three shapes, as there should have been, but there was another indiscernible shape just outside the ring of firelight. From where they were, he couldn't judge its height or girth, and it seemed to flicker in and out of existence like a bad transmission. Something ominous coiled in his belly, instinct overriding whatever force was pushing them forward. He stopped and tried to gather the swiftly unraveling threads of his thoughts, but a snarl from Sephiroth had him pushing forward again.

And wasn't it just like Sephiroth to get nasty and bossy with the end of a mission just in sight? For all that he was straight-laced and impersonable he was still as human as anyone else once it became clear that a long assignment was nearly due to end. Genesis reflected on this wryly as he skirted a bit of deadfall to keep from making any more noise than was necessary. They needed to talk. Not only about how disastrously this mission had gone, but about communication in the field and appropriate forms of address under emotional duress. 

The tell-tale hiss of Masamune being unsheathed was his cue to cut around the flames and close in on opposite sides. It was an old but effective tactic, one they didn't need to stop and ruminate over before taking action. Rapier gleamed an eerie plum in the bizarre firelight, and yet again something inside him whispered for pause. Pushing it away for what felt like the upteenth time, Genesis settled behind yet another tree and glanced across the huddled trio to where Sephiroth stood. A gleam of steel against the branches was a well-enough indicator, but something was wrong. He could see his fellow SOLDIER, but it was like looking through a transparent veil. Something shimmered between them that he couldn't quite get a good visual grasp on, like the flicker of a fish in the depths of murky water. 

It occurred to him-in a moment far flung from that one-that the figures at the fire were eerily silent; that they _had_ been silent since they first caught sight of them. They didn't speak to each other at all, despite all indicators being that they were well and truly alone. Glassy eyes stared at the firelight as if spellbound, empty irisis reflecting the blaze like glassy mirrors strewn over unadorned surfaces. Closer inspection proved that they did not move- did not _breathe_ -and through the incredulity that choked his mind Genesis registered that Sephiroth had already moved into the light and was zeroing in on the 'mercenary’ closest to him. Except it wasn't a mercenary, wasn't anything like what they were supposed to be pursuing and the hysterical yell of caution that tried to leave his lips was strangled by a darkness lurking in the back of his consciousness; brought him stumbling forward and gagging into the blaze of luminescence where the General was, feeling like so much of an idiot. 

Emerald eyes widened and then narrowed with dark purpose, Masamune swung and connected with-nothing. The men they had pursued so faithfully vanished in a surge of green light that knocked the air out of the redhead’s lungs and landed him flat on his back. Stars exploded behind his eyes as his head connected with a tree stump. Dimly, he was aware of some sort of pained exclamation coming from Sephiroth but he couldn't concentrate on it as his artificial biology acknowledged the injury and set about correcting it. Inwardly, he railed against their carelessness. The trap was so obvious a child could have detected it but two trained FIRSTS had failed to do so. He was-painfully-aware of the amount of magical manipulation needed to impart suggestion on a SOLDIER and a part of him despaired of their situation. 

Still, he'd be damned if he was going to die here, on the ground. Despite the now-fading pain radiating from the back of his skull and the slow trickle of blood out of one ear, Genesis gritted his teeth and gripped Rapier by the hilt, hauling himself upward as he planted the heft of the blade into the soil. The world lurched ominously for a minute and he steadied himself with one hand covering his face. Swaying, he tried to make sense of the scene before him. The fire was completely extinguished and the woods around them were blanketed in velvet darkness. Some childish-mostly concussed-version of himself sniggered out a joke about _what idiot turned off the trees??’_ before he pushed it back in favor of concentration. Before him, Sephiroth was hunched over with a hand to his head, a faint glow eclipsing his form before fading out entirely. Leather-clad hands trembled in their grip on Masamune before it clattered into the dirt. His face was a mask of iron laced with pain, his teeth biting into his bottom lip so hard that red was trickling down to his chin. Forgoing decorum and caution in one breath, Genesis leapt forward to haul him up but was cut short by the wild look that was both terror and some unnamed emotion in the General's gaze.

_”Don't!”_

The harshness of the utterance cut through every nerve in his body. He'd never heard the other man sound so unhinged. Violet screamed across his irises before a shuddering growl allowed green to bleed into them once more. 

“Don't” he repeated, quieter, but with no less emotion. “He negated the physical buildup of the suppressants I've been taking. Their effect is null, I-” He stiffened and another violent tremor wracked his body. A strange, somewhat ambrosial fragrance invaded his senses... distracting, alluring. “I don't know what I'll-” he broke off with a hiss of breath and his eyes closed fractionally as the scent grew stronger. 

“He?” Genesis said sharply, casting around for anything that would lessen the convolutedness of their situation. 

The silver-haired man nodded, his teeth gritted. 

“You were right, it's a Summoner but not-” the redhead stiffened as a whine spilled from those beautiful lips. At the same time, he was fleetingly cognizant of a presence at his back, black like the light-polluted skies above Midgar. He was accosted with a sense of exhilarated anticipation that was not his own. “Genesis!” The thread of his concentration snapped and he flicked his gaze back to his comrade who appeared to be trying to rip off his uniform. “Genesis, I _need_ -!” Another convulsion and Sephiroth appeared to regain himself for a moment. “You need to leave, you need to go _now!_ ”

And it was then, with a startling amount of clarity, that the pieces slid into place. This wasn't mercenaries or mako or Gaia, nor was it about insurgence or a takeover by opposed social factions. This was about _Sephiroth_ , Sephiroth and his stupid ability to catch the eye of anything and anyone and whatever strangeness that cavorted about with him wherever he went. And that strangeness-a _little_ bit of that strangeness-was now perfectly clear. Cursing, Genesis strode forward and knelt, peeling off his gloves as he did so. Sliding sure palms through lengths of moonlight-colored hair, he cupped that perfect face and tilted it up to meet his gaze. 

The effect was instantaneous. 

Sephiroth went utterly still, his breathing shallow and rhythmless but still nonetheless. The scent was stronger here, almost overwhelming in its intensity and he was hard pressed not to do as it bid. Behind him, the redhead could feel the crouching inevitably of their adversary, and while he felt guilty about what he was going to do it only strengthened his resolve. 

“Listen to me” he said quietly. “You're going into...some sort of heat.” His heart nearly exploded from the shock and subsequent self- revulsion that traversed aquiline features, but he pressed on. “I'm going to help you, and I'm going to do it in a way that is the least invasive to you as possible but you need to trust me or I get the feeling that you'll kill me. When we get back this stays between us, I won't tell anyone. Not Hollander, not Hojo, not Angeal.” There was hesitation, so much hesitation that he nearly rescinded the offer. He was, after all, offering physical gratification to someone who was hardly in the right mind to consent. Then another trembling shudder wracked his body and that hesitation bled into a desperate need. Slowly, the other man nodded and Genesis exhaled shakily, sliding a hand beneath Sephiroth's chin and drawing him forward until green seemed to burn the very world around them. Threading the other hand through those soft, impossibly soft locks he closed his eyes. “I'm sorry.” 

He then dragged them both forward those last few inches, and kissed him.

In hindsight, he should have probably guessed that locking lips with someone excreting some type of pheromone was going to be a lot like jerking off with fifty dicks. Every nerve in his body lit up like the humming thread of an electric current, his synapses groaned under the weight of self-inflicted duress and his toes did that curling thing that was usually only reserved for the worst porno flicks he'd ever seen. Sephiroth melted-and there was something really bizarre about the world's most dangerous individual melting against him but he couldn't muster enough brain power to figure it out-long fingers tangling in his hair and he pressed forward like he wanted to devour every inch of him. And maybe he did. He didn't know what Sephiroth was anymore and there was a distinct possibility that all mating rituals ended with one or the other acting as lunch. Some crazy part of him found that oddly hot and he bit back an inglorious whimper as the softness of a tongue traced the seam of his lips. 

Sephiroth did not know how to kiss. That much was very clear and it was one of the only things that kept him grounded, that and the slow approach of ravening death but living vicariously was always kind of a kink for him anyways. Genesis could forgive his inexperience because it was an incredible experience in a really shitty situation, and for all his uncertainty he was still gorgeous and virile and weirdly innocent. Even as he fumbled with Rapier's hilt and thumbed the dagger up his sleeve he knew there were few things more precious than firsts, and he had every intention of making this kiss a good memory for the man currently grinding into his snowsuit. Latching on to the the softness of that tongue he sucked gently, rotating their bodies carefully as he monitored the situation encroaching around them. Sephiroth's breath stuttered and he nearly lost his focus but managed to execute his purpose nevertheless. 

Rapier was a dark arc against the roiling darkness around them as he swung it forward, around the body currently latched to his lapels and into the looming monstrosity of the Summoner beyond. There was a howl, Sephiroth stiffened and he slammed the hilt of the dagger into his temple, guilt nearly bringing him to his knees as the man dropped like a stone. The blackness around them coalesced, tried to take form but did not succeed and he caught a glimpse of the white lights of a Shinra lab before everything collapsed, the ground trembling as something in the back of his mind loosed its hold and he stumbled, relief flooding his veins as the trees around them flickered back into their usual luminescent existence. The quiet around them had lifted, and he was distinctly aware of the far off noise of a brook bubbling its way to the sea. He felt lighter than he had in weeks but a quick glance at Sephiroth brought the elation earned with their victory to a screeching halt. 

To anyone who didn't know him better, it would seem he was asleep. But the strange way he had fallen and the now-rapidly fading bruise on one side of his head told him otherwise. It was a testament to what Genesis had done, what he _had_ to do to get them out of that situation, however fleeting. The necessity of his actions did not assuage his guilt. As he rummaged in the General's bag to pull out a medical syringe, saline solution, and the bottle of suppressants he could only hope their friendship survived it. Because if there was anything this journey had taught him, anything he could take away from it that was positive it was that Sephiroth was definitely, most certainly a friend…

...and to him, perhaps more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. 
> 
> Honestly, it feels like when my mind gives me a break my body decides to take over. I've been sick, and I don't really know when I'm going to be 100% again. I will say that because I've had nearly two months to work on this chapter, I feel that it is in much better shape than my excerpts usually are, so hopefully some comfort can come from the fact that it is fully, completely edited and revised. 
> 
> I think some of you may have figured out where I'm going with this to some degree. I want to emphasize that I have no intention of creating submission in either Genesis or Sephiroth. I intend to have a fairly even playing field, so please don't worry about either character losing their 'muchness.' Each chapter I work on is a careful study of their dynamics, both in their every day lives and their encounters with each other. 
> 
> You may also notice that Ive ended several chapters with pretty heavy violence/action. One of the things I wanted to do in regards to this fic circled around not having 'stagnant scenes'; chapters where characters laze around and sort of wobble through existence via work or travel. It's definitely a different experience, but I think I've enjoyed it a lot. I hope you have as well.
> 
> Thank you for reading (and waiting)!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you going to talk to me anytime soon?”

Genesis’ tone was deliberately honeyed, but the undertone of amusement was clearly difficult to mask. Sitting at the edge of a frosty peat bog, Sephiroth couldn't help but bristle at the gentle teasing in his tone. Between them, a fire-a _natural, not green_ fire-was blazing, throwing out waves of welcome warmth; the snow near to it hissing as it melted. The sky was lit up with an array of pink, yellow and blue....heralds to the early morning sun. Behind them was a vast expanse of glittering moore, treading backwards to the nightmare they'd left behind the previous day. They were perhaps thirty miles outside the Sleeping Forest, but it wasn't enough. A part of him wondered if the distance would ever be enough, but Sephiroth didn't care to dwell on it. 

He'd woken up disoriented and slightly panicked. A few seconds ago-by his telling-he’d been trying to crawl into a fellow SOLDIER's lap. He recalled there had been something amiss with the entire situation, but his memory hadn't cared to be scrupulous. He only remembered the foreboding, and what had happened after Masamune cut into the nothingness that was supposed to be a mercenary. Genesis had been terribly, humiliatingly gentle with him, going so far as to keep ten paces between them at all times. He knew the redhead thought him violated; a thief of something practically impermissible...but that was not the case. 

Sephiroth was horrified by his crassness; of what he'd done and what his state of compromisation had forced his partner to do. In the quiet moments, when he couldn't focus on how he would write up his field statement or report to Hojo, his mind wandered back to how helpless he'd felt...how completely and utterly out of control he'd been. A part of him wanted to rage at the scientist; for not warning him, for placing what amounted to a rogue agent in the field...but he knew he'd been given every angle of possible prevention. He'd taken the suppressants but no one could have accounted for a Summoner of such caliber, one who could reach into the veins of his body and pluck out whatever they wished. He had no one to blame but himself for such carelessness. 

Gritting his teeth against an onslaught of self-flagellation, Sephiroth tugged at his vambraces. The feeling of the…’heat’ as Genesis had called it-was still fresh. His body had betrayed him; the lightheadedness, the thunder of his pulse, the rolling heat in his nether regions...all of it was a mutiny of physicality. His skin had felt too tight for his body and the humid warmth of arousal between his thighs had been too much to overcome. It seemed that this mission was to be nothing but a litany of his failures. He'd never been forced to accept his own incompetence, mostly because he'd never done anything remotely tangent to it before, but now it was a bitter pill to swallow. The loading dose of suppressant Genesis had given him was making him incomprehensibly weary, and he felt emotionally intemperate. 

The explosive sigh from across the fire caught him off guard, his limbs jolting slightly as the sapphire-eyed SOLDIER glared at him through the flames. He ignored it, determined to put as much social distance between them as he could. Hojo would want to see him immediately after they returned to HQ, he always did after long missions, and he couldn't afford the emotionalism unnecessary communication with Genesis would bring. 

“Come here, Sephiroth.” Despite his determinedness, despite the fact that he would be lucky with a mere week of reconditioning once they returned, he lifted his head. Immediately, he was disarmed.The blatant demand had unbalanced him, allowing weakness to slither under the shields he'd been mentally building for the past twenty-four hours. Genesis lips curled into a wry smile as he settled into a cross-legged position and beckoned expectantly. “It's incredibly rude to kiss someone and leave them hanging you know.”

He was fairly sure his teeth were going to crumble into dust before they returned to Midgar. A part of him felt obligatory and guilty, yet another was violently, vehemently disinclined to sabotage himself any further; but more than that, more than the fact that it was blatantly obvious that Genesis was taking advantage of his sparse knowledge of romance...he was desperate for comfort. It was sickening, it left him reeling but it was still there...gnawing a hole into the carefully closed chasm of loneliness he'd harbored for so many years. Now that he knew what physical contact for the sake of gratification felt like, he wanted more. Hojo had warned him it would feel like that, and while he was loathe to admit on the best day that his least favorite person was right...he was certainly not far off. Swallowing, Sephiroth stood mechanically, skirting the edge of the flames so he could take up a position directly opposite Genesis, mimicking his position as he did so. Something in those cerulean eyes softened, leaned uncomfortably close to the vestiges of sympathy, and he very nearly got up again.   
.  
“Okay” the redhead murmured, exhaling as he did so. Leather-clad hands reached out, paused as Sephiroth stiffened, then dropped to the lap he'd been sitting in barely over a day before. “You need to stop overthinking this.”

“I…” Sephiroth paused, stumbling over a half-formulated response. “I don't..”

Genesis huffed and shook his head, dragging a hand across his face.

“Gaia, you'd think I fucked you 'till you couldn't remember your own name.” 

His response was visceral, childish and automatic. Sephiroth recoiled, half-standing before a firm hand tugged him back down again. 

“ _Stop it!_ I'm joking, all my jokes are in bad taste so please try and get that through your head!” Genesis eyed him mutinously as he settled again. “Look, I'm sorry I stole your first kiss, okay? I'm really sorry, but you're going to have a lot of other opportunities and it was necessary given the situation.” 

“I know that” Sephiroth replied stiffly, shifting irritably as his scabbard dug into his hip. “I'm not angry at you, I'm-” he broke off with a growl. “-I’ve never been a liability before.”

Genesis blinked. 

“You think this is your fault?” he said quietly, a dangerous undertone weaving its way into his voice. Sephiroth ignored it.

“I'm the General” he said flatly. “My task is to complete missions as efficiently as possible, with as little risk to my men as I'm capable of. This has been the exact opposite of my target directives, I was compromised twice, put us in mortal danger twice. Lower ranking SOLDIERS get sent home for things like this, it's dishonorable... distastef-”

“-For fuck’s sake!” Genesis yelled. “Are you _listening_ to yourself?!” Sephiroth looked at him incredulously. The rage behind those eyes was palatable, as bright as the blaze beside them and twice as hot. “Do you think this is going to get you anywhere?”

“I'm sorry” he said helplessly, unsure of what the other man wanted to hear. 

The redhead cursed, tossing fiery locks as he reached forward and grabbed both of his hands, leaning closer as he did so.

“Listen to me” he said urgently. “We were pitted against an impossible foe, with far more magical prowess than either of us possess. The only way we were going to win was with spontaneity. I acted, you followed. There was no way to predict what was going to happen to you on this mission, to either of us. Both of us were compromised. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake. Besides, we did what we were told, we apprehended the target, and since we were unable to perform retrieval...we terminated the threat.”

The silver-haired man scoffed. 

“And you think the Turks aren't going to be all over this once we reveal what an unregistered Summoner did to us?? To our _minds?_ Hollander will have a field day, I'll be lucky if Hojo doesn't take me apart piece by piece, we’ll be under surveillance for months-”

“-Which is why we aren't reporting that part of the story” Genesis said calmly. 

If he were a lesser man, Sephiroth would have gaped at him. As it was, he settled with letting his eyebrows disappear into his hair. 

“You can't be serious.”

“I'm always serious” was the flat response. When he continued to look gobsmacked, the redhead sighed. “We report everything we did to the letter, as long as it runs within general mission parameters. The brass won't question us. This was an inside job in any case, and it won't help us any to reveal our concerns to the Board.”

Green eyes narrowed.

“...You want to keep looking into this.” His companion didn't reply, his gaze shifting slightly to the left as a light dusting of pink started at his ears and crept slowly down his neck. “I thought you didn't want anything to do with this.”

The redhead sighed.

“I didn't” he muttered. “But now it's personal.”

“'Personal’” Sephiroth echoed. 

“Yes” was the snappish response. “Look, I was nearly sucked into a Death Materia and I had to make out with my sexually compromised General. If that's not personal, I don't know what is.”

Immediately, the insecurity returned. 

“If I could have done anything about it-” he began haltingly.

“-You would have” was the waspish reply. “I know Seph. You'd rather get trampled by a herd of rampaging chocobos than make out with your Commander, I get it.”

He hesitated.

“I... wouldn't say that” he muttered gruffly.

Genesis’ eyes softened and his lips curled into some semblance of a smile. Sephiroth tried not to think about how attractive a smile it was.

“I'll take that as a compliment” his friend said gently. The silver-haired man flushed and looked away, retrieving his hands and crossing his arms. “Out of curiosity, how did you know the Summoner was male?”

A cold that had nothing to do with the temperature eclipsed his limbs as the memory of that encounter rose in his mind like a serpent preparing to strike. 

“I...smelled him” he muttered. 

His comrade-in-arms made a face.

“You ‘smelled him’.”

For what felt like the millionth time, Sephiroth gritted his teeth. 

“I can't explain it. When he siphoned the suppressants I could immediately tell.”

The redhead looked like he was processing this information.

“Maybe we should talk about how you're feeling” Genesis commented at length.

“...In regards to what?” Sephiroth replied, his tone deliberately cautious.

The other man sighed and leaned forward again, opening his mouth before seemingly thinking better of it and letting his focus drop to the soil between them. When he spoke again, it was was with careful deliberation. 

“I...I mean, you have to be somewhat curious about why you’re not exactly human.”

In truth, he hadn't thought about it. Sephiroth stiffened as he fought off a wave of anxiety-related nausea that came with the declaration. He was strange enough already that adding _'goes into unregulated heat cycles that turn him into a sex-crazed vagrant’_ to the list was completely unattractive. Knowing he might be genetically enhanced was one thing, acknowledging that he might have strands of non-human DNA was quite another. It made sense, now that he allowed the thought to cross his mind. But it didn't make him feel more secure or mentally stable. 

“I don't particularly care to think about it” he admitted, clenching a gloved hand. “There's too many things that ostracize me already.”

Genesis shrugged.

“Look, SOLDIERS are already superhuman entities” he replied, fiddling with this earring. “When I joined the program, it was with the knowledge that if I managed to make it to FIRST, there were things about my life I'd need to learn to let go of.” He sighed. “You...you never had the opportunity to choose if you wanted that, because-in my opinion-you were created by Shinra. That's not fair, and it's definitely not fair that you don't know anything about your parentage.”

“I've told you my mother's name was Jenova.”

The redhead smiled, a little sadly.

“Was it really though? Hojo’s lied to you before, he didn't tell you everything about-” he gestured vaguely. “-This! This whole debacle might have been avoided if he'd given you the suppressants in person and explained the risk of not taking them. I'm not saying this mission was entirely avoidable, but I think it would have made it easier.”

“And what about you?” Sephiroth demanded. 

A scarlet brow arched delicately.

“Hmm?”

“You and Angeal are the only SOLDIERS who have made it to FIRST. There have been SOLDIERS in the program longer than any of us, with practically flawless field records but they're still SECOND rank. What makes you- _us_ -so special? Why are we permitted to attend board meetings some of our highest-ranking Sergeants don't hear about until weeks later? Angeal sat in on a war council two weeks after he was promoted to SECOND. His admitting General wasn't even there.” Sephiroth shook his head. “Why are we so important?”

The man before him was silent, his gaze clouded as he considered his response.

“I... I don't know Seph.” Blue eyes narrowed and a mischievous grin played about his lips. “...But we could find out.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“Oh, let's just say I have a ‘friend’ in Archives who’s rather familiar with my anatomy.” Genesis winked. “I was newly admitted and just...so _young_ and _impressionable_ , or so I let her think. _Surely_ denying us access to our own genetic records isn't worth her career.” 

And this-Sephiroth thought dryly as he tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that rose up at the idea of the man across from him seducing some hapless employee-was why Genesis had the reputation for being utterly wicked. As frivolous as his liaisons could be, he was completely capable of taking advantage of a situation as soon as he walked out of the bedroom. It was also why pursuing anything with him romantically was out of the question. Genesis was ambitious in ways he was not. No matter how brutal he could be on the battlefield, Sephiroth couldn't imagine using his social or sexual prowess to rise through the ranks. That wasn't to say that the redhead was only a FIRST because he'd slept his way up the ladder, he was the best at what he did. But there had been a lot of people wrangling for his position that had abruptly fallen silent as soon as Genesis passed Corporate levels of clearance...some of them had disappeared. And while the silver-haired man was fairly sure his comrade wouldn't go so far as to kill someone to ensure his position, he was _absolutely_ sure that the head of the Rhapsodos family would. He had a large enough target on his back without being romantically tied to one of the most powerful families in all of Gaia. 

“If you think you can manage it, I'm not going to stop you” he said stiffly.

Disappointment was coupled with understanding in those sapphire eyes.

“...I know you don't approve.”

“It's none of my business” he replied preparing to get up.

“Wait.”

He startled as he was pulled down for what felt like the upteenth time. Genesis’ expression was awkward, somewhat reticent.

“I'm not as shitty as the Press paints me out to be” his friend continued. “It's... my fucking title, my family. Even in Shinra I can't get away from it. And yeah, I've taken advantage of my name before, but I was a kid and I didn't know how much status and the use of status can hurt others. In my defense, it's how I was raised. My Dad made sure to let me know that if I didn't get a rank higher than Colonel he'd disown me. He didn't want me in the Army in the first place, so everything became a competition. When the press splashed that stupid picture of me and you after the Grasslands sweep across the news he wanted to meet you. So I told him we weren't on speaking terms...which was kind of true at the time. I...disliked you because I knew that in his eyes you were something I could never measure up to so he wanted to take advantage of it. At the time I just saw it as greater favor. As much as we fight, I'm still his kid,and at the time I just wanted him to _see_ me. But he saw you instead.” The redhead swallowed thickly. “That...that hurt like a bitch.”

Feeling somewhat mollified, Sephiroth looked down.

“Gen…” he began. “...Why are you telling me this.”

A slightly hollow laugh was the initial reply as the Commander tugged irritably at a loose thread poking out of his turtleneck.

“You're the second person to call me that. _'Gen’”_ he clarified when Sephiroth raised a confused eyebrow. “My mother used it when I was little, Dad didn't like it.” 

“You...said she was 'aesthetically obsessed” he commented.

“My mother?” the older man asked, he nodded. “That's essentially the sum of it. She liked me better when I was pink, immobile, and chubby.” Sephiroth tried and failed to suppress the incredulous snort that forced its way out of his throat, but Genesis’ eyes were twinkling. “I was a fat baby, get over it.” He appeared to sober. “She was… _is_ really beautiful, she's always been beautiful but it certainly didn't make her humble.” The redhead grimaced. “Or kind. I really shouldn't say that, she did what she could but coddling me was out of the question, and she always seemed distracted. When I got older I let it drive a wedge between us, we haven't spoken anything but pleasantries in years.” His smile was bitter. “Having a family isn't as much as it's cracked up to be.”

“But you had Angeal” Sephiroth pressed. 

“I did” Genesis sighed. “I had Angeal, and his mother-Gillian-now _she_ was a Mom. Brilliant too, and funny. I miss her. We used to go back and visit when we had leave, but our stations don't allow us that time anymore and exterior attachments aren't exactly encouraged.”

There was a stretch of silence between them.

“Even...even if I had a family, I don't think I'd want to know who they are at this point” Sephiroth said haltingly.

“Because they gave you up to Shinra” the blue-eyed man commented, his gaze sympathetic. “Yeah, I get that.” 

“I’ve never particularly cared about being different” he continued. “But recently, it's been more difficult.”

Genesis chewed his lip, gazing at the fire with a contemplative expression. 

“Maybe it's just part of getting older” he remarked, running a hand through his hair. “You realize more about yourself, think about the things you'd like that are missing.”

“I don't _want_ to have to think about it” the younger man groused. “It's...not integral to who I need to be.” 

“Even if you're only partly like me, you still have similar DNA. With that comes the whole emotional, unfortunate package of having 'person feelings’.” Genesis smiled teasingly. “Sorry Seph, but your humanity is showing.”

“You make it sound like something dirty” the General muttered.

This time, his companion truly laughed, a grin spreading across his face.

“Oh _no_ darling, that's what _you_ make it sound like.”

Sephiroth tried to ignore the way his face heated up with the sentiment, his lips thinning as he ducked his head and redirected his visual focus to the fire. 

“I'm not sure I want to be human” he confessed.

“That's because you've been raised to think that it's not who you are. If Shinra really wanted a mindless killing machine they should have built a robot, not a devastatingly attractive hybrid.”

The General shot him deadpan look.

“You're flirting with me” he said dryly. His friend smirked. “I’ve seen you perform your parlor tricks on target civilians. Stop it.”

“You really make it too easy” Genesis chuckled. “Though I really do have to ask, now that you’ve got a taste of it, what are you going to do?”

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed at the very obvious bait. He knew that they couldn't continue, and he was fairly sure that his infuriating companion knew it too. Still, it was pleasant to pretend they could pursue something. Out here, with no prying eyes the consequences of banter were next to nil. Solitude aside, he absolutely wasn't willing to act like he'd been won over so easily. 

“I don't know” he said softly, watching with a kind of delighted anticipation as Genesis’ eyes darkened. “Maybe I'll see if your 'friend’ from Archives would like to…become ‘anatomically intimate’ with me.” 

The redhead gaped at him, the excited atmosphere that surrounded him deflating like a balloon.

“You can't be serious!” he snapped. “Do you know how many men she's fucked?!”

“I believe there's something to remedy that” Sephiroth replied, feigning partial-ignorance. “A… _condim..?_ ”

_“Condom”_ the older man spluttered. 

He let his expression morph into one of concern.

“Wait” he murmured, bringing a hand to his mouth and widening his eyes. “You kissed me. If you've...with her...should I be concerned?”

“Are you talking about _herpes?!_ ” Genesis shrieked. 

“Yes” he said seriously. “That. I've always noticed you have a particular spot on your lower lip you tend to hi- _mmphf!_ ”

Insinuating his Commander might have given him an STD was evidently enough to be orally assaulted. Sephiroth filed this away for later use as his mind acknowledged that said Commander was currently plundering his mouth in a way that made his legs feel like amoeba. The man in question had thrown his knees on either side of his waist and was apparently trying to encourage him to swallow his tongue. 

“If you-” Genesis panted between kisses. “ _-Ever_ insinuate I've given you an immunological disorder again I'm going to have my way with you whether you want to or not.”

“I will never understand your ability to say words like imnu-imno-iymollo... _that_ in situations like this” Sephiroth growled, nipping experimentally at the redhead's bottom lip and feeling incomprehensibly smug when it earned him a full-body shudder. “And that's quite a serious breach of protocol, I might have to contact HR.”

“Oh, fuck you” Genesis gasped as his tongue found the hollow between ear and neck. “You got that from Lazard.”

He tried-failed-to think of a clever response. It was impossible. Not with dextrous fingers combing through his hair in a gesture that was _far_ too emotionally charged for his liking.

“I'm never letting you comb my hair again” he muttered.

“Shut up.”

Genesis’ communicator went off as the redhead was starting to yank off his vambraces. Both of them froze, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering; hands poised to yank off scabbards and belt buckles. Sephiroth swallowed and pulled back, watching as the older man yanked the electronic device out of his pocket as if it had done him a grievous wrong. The conditioned part of him was relieved. What they were doing wasn't acceptable, and it couldn't end well. Hojo would find out eventually. Genesis was valuable, but he wasn't valuable enough to be disposed of should he compromise Shinra’s greatest asset. 

“Rhapsodos here” the aforementioned man snapped, rising from his lap and storming several paces away. “Two to three days out...it went well. Probably tomorrow, we've already written the draft. Yeah...okay...you too.”

Sephiroth watched as he shut the communicator with a sharp snap and stood there for a few seconds before turning back to him, his face flushed.

“'It went well’?” the General quoted dubiously.

Genesis rolled his eyes. 

“That was Tseng. We should head out, Bone Village isn't far.”

“I think we're indefinitely banned” Sephiroth said idly, standing and kicking icy soil over the remains of the fire. 

The redhead cursed. 

“Fine, we'll go around. Hopefully we can get back to Kalm by tomorrow night.”

He turned and knelt to pick up Rapier. Sephiroth opened his mouth but thought better of it, turning to look out over the marsh. A hand on his cheek startled him, unwittingly bringing himself around to meet determined blue eyes.

“This isn't over” Genesis said roughly, dragging him in for a fierce kiss. “Don't get comfortable.”

As he watched his… _friend?_ square his shoulders and turn away, Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an indication of how my updates will be, I just happened to have the time this week. 
> 
> Sort of fluffy. Scruffy? I know we haven't had much dialogue. It was time. Thanks for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	9. Chapter 9

Genesis was-to put it mildly-completely fucked.

Watching as the landing pad grew closer with every minute, he acknowledged that he'd never felt resentful returning to HQ before. They'd made good time. Two Turk agents were waiting for them at the entrance to the port after they'd spent the night just outside Bone Village, and they’d spent the the next dusk cycle in Kalm in separate rooms. From there it was a mind-bendingly quick motorcycle ride to Midgar, with dust flying up into goggle-covered eyes and miles of endless road. Someone-or something-had either scavenged the corpse of the Zolom or dragged it somewhere else. The area they'd encountered it in was barren, devoid of any sign of the fight that had taken place nearly a month before. For some reason, it depressed him. The amount of value he'd put into this mission was concerning. Despite the fact that their reports were to-the-letter and completely boring, the President had asked to see them after they'd gotten a decent night's sleep. Before that, they were both scheduled for check-ups with their respective physicians and Genesis tried not to let the idea of Sephiroth being grilled by Hojo in the lab bother him.

After their second kiss, he'd tried to tell himself to let it go. As open as he'd been with him in their last discussion, he doubted Sephiroth would be half as forthcoming enclosed in the forbidding walls he'd grown up in. He tried-consciously-to distance himself, to save himself the grief. He rarely had crushes; sex was an idle pleasantry, good for distraction and negotiation, but emotional ties were always difficult. He'd had a terrible thing for Angeal when they were teenagers. As gently as he'd been rebuffed, it had still hurt, and it took him two years to be able to tolerate their friendship at the level it used to be. Sephiroth had none of Angeal’s kindness. If he decided he was coming on too strong, Genesis knew he would freeze him out. It would be painful, really painful, and he couldn't afford the distraction if he wanted to keep investigating what their mission had brought to light.

Unfortunately, Sephiroth had evidently decided that he was comfortable being open with him. In some ways, it was bizarre. He made a point to lend a hand, even if it wasn't particularly needed, and he drew him into engaging conversation more than once. When they set up camp the one night they were alone, neither of them slept. They spent the dark hours discussing tactical points to accessing their records once they returned to Shinra. Then they moved on to discussing how Lazard was obviously some sort of robot, because how else was he surviving the amount of paperwork he received? And of course then they had to speculate that perhaps he just fed his paperwork into an internal processor and digitally signed or rejected it with a biotechnological stamp. This went on until morning, and it was singularly the most enjoyable conversation he'd had since he'd last hung out with Angeal.

More than that, there were a million things about Sephiroth that were _interesting._ His sense of humor was dry, you could miss it if you weren't listening carefully but it was still there. He had an odd affinity for remembering numbers and dates, something he admitted he'd excelled at for as long as he could remember. For as little opportunity as Sephiroth had to travel, he liked colder climates best, and he absolutely _hated_ Costa Del Sol. He was also a little bit of an alcoholic. Genesis was somewhat concerned when he admitted to consuming two bottles of Ultima during a particularly fancy corporate ball, but then he remembered that his physicality probably didn't allow him to get smashed on four or five drinks alone. Once a SOLDIER built up a tolerance, swallowing a keg was nothing. He apparently had what amounted to a high-scale cocktail lounge behind a wall in his apartment, and while he didn't like the idea that his friend was essentially drinking himself into a black hole every night, he couldn't really blame him. Sephiroth also happened to casually follow blitzball, which was probably the weirdest thing about him, but it was strangely endearing and oddly cute.

The man was also unfairly attractive. Genesis had expounded on his ridiculous aesthetic before, but it was different now that he knew what was beneath it. Sometimes, he just wanted to take Rapier and hack off all that pretty silver hair just to save himself the physical pain. It was like watching a river sway in front of him, floating and endless. His eyes didn't make matters any more tolerable. Genesis couldn't look at grass anymore without thinking that it wasn't half as nicely green as Sephiroth's eyes. He'd never been sentimental about beauty. Poetry was much prettier than physicality-or so he'd thought-but of course Sephiroth put a giant middle finger up to that concept too. If he could pick anything he liked best about him, it would probably be his smile. Mostly because it was rare and fleeting. If the redhead said something that precipitated it, it was like walking on clouds for the rest of the day.

So, Genesis was very fucked.

Every time he _looked_ at Sephiroth his stomach did this atrocious, deranged sort of tap dance and the more he tried to smash it out of his system the worse it seemed to get. The man in question remained-as far as he knew-oblivious, but he didn't know how long that would last. He was getting what he'd always dreamed of as a kid; a strong, respect-oriented relationship with Shinra's most valuable asset. His father would probably explode with happiness if he ever felt even slightly inclined to inform him, but the mere idea left him nauseous.He would have been perfectly content with being besties with Sephiroth until he died a very happy death but his brain evidently had other ideas. And those idea were not G-rated. In some ways, it was probably a good thing that they would be separating for a while after this, but he'd grown used to having the General at arm's reach.

He liked waking up to find him yanking ‘the brush’ through his hair, and brushing his teeth using freshly fallen snow was totally gross but there was a creepy part of him that enjoyed doing it next to Sephiroth. He'd miss making coffee for him in the morning and there was something oddly protective about the ritual of placing a Detection materia around their tent at night. Walking through the Sleeping Forest was about as far from 'fun’ as you could get, but he'd still come to value the closeness between them, the knowledge that they had each other's backs if need be. The conversation they'd had after leaving didn't make things easier. It had been both healing and damaging. The kiss had been turbulent, charged with both negative and positive emotions. A sad, floppy part of him acknowledged that Sephiroth was following protocol. It was his job to look after his subordinates, it was what funded his apparently massive cache of alcohol, but he tried not to think about it that way.

There were people on the landing pad. Genesis groaned as he recognized the laniards of cleared press associates holding giant flash-bulb cameras. The Turk on his right sent him a disapproving glare but Sephiroth nudged him gently and he relented, plastering a smile across his face as the helicopter touched down and the mob swarmed to the edge. Questions immediately rained down on them, but they were fielded by Tseng, who had stepped out of the crowd to address the reporters. Mechanically, the redhead began the process of dragging his supplies off the bird, thanking the pilot, stepping down and to the side to let Sephiroth do the same. At the back of the throng he could see the familiar red and silver glint of the sun reflecting off the hilt of the Buster Sword, and he took some small comfort in that. He shot a gleaming, obligatory smile at the press as Sephiroth stepped up beside him and the outward flash left streaks against his eyes for several minutes. It was at once, both melancholy and torture; a stark reminder of the world he was returning to and what he was leaving behind. A gloved hand on his shoulder gave him pause, and he let himself relish the General's touch for a moment before pulling away to help Tseng expedite the process.

He hated the press with a vehemence that came from years of experience. When he was young, his father toted him around at agricultural conferences like a trophy. The populace loved a family man, and while he was about as far from it at home as Junon was from Wutai, playing the part for the public was a simple task. As he grew older and more disappointing, such occurrences petered out until they never happened anymore. When he was promoted to FIRST, the media attention was so insidious Genesis had contemplated pissing off the central tower to lose approval ratings. He had a distinct feeling he'd probably be shot for it, so he'd resisted the urge, however grudgingly.

At first he'd enjoyed the spotlight, mostly because it was for him and not his father, but that fondness quickly waned as the years went by. It came to a head when he was at a bar with some chick he'd met the day before. The next morning the headline was splashed with romantic speculation. People wolf whistled at him when he passed and while some might enjoy the idea of their dalliances being touted to the public, he hated it. The entire world didn't need to know when he wanted a good fuck. That was the day he'd thrown out the placard marking his apartment and moved eleven doors down. People asked where he'd moved to and he made a point of saying he'd relocated to the city rim. He was fairly sure he had a fan club that scouted the area on a weekly basis in the hopes of getting a glimpse of him. He slept very well at night knowing they went home disappointed every time. He enjoyed success, but he didn't enjoy the attention. It was just an extension of his father’s regime and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Eventually, the amount of people on the landing pad thinned. The press drifted off to the lifts, their questions exhausted. Tseng disappeared to ferry the paper forms of their reports to Lazard. His former drill-sergeant clapped him on the shoulder before hopping into the recently-vacated helicopter to catch a ride back to his home. Genesis smiled-the first genuine smile in what felt like hours-as Angeal strode towards him, Zack tailing behind him with a half-excited, half apprehensive look on his face.

“Thought you might have gotten lost” his childhood friend commented, nodding at Sephiroth who returned the gesture. The redhead chuckled tiredly.

“Sometimes it felt like that. Definitely a mission to end all missions this one.”

“It was as good as we could have hoped for” Sephiroth commented, hefting his duffel. Pausing, he appeared to consider something before bringing it 'round and shuffling through it. Pulling out 'the brush’, he proffered it to him. “You should take this Gen.”

He grinned.

“It's yours. Goddess knows I don't want to spend the rest of my life working your hair out of it before I can use it again. Keep it, as a memento.”

Sephiroth's mouth twitched.

“I'll just mount it on my wall shall I?”

“Oh please do, right next to your finest bottle of Wutaiin Amber. I'll expect a plaque when I visit; _'He gave his life for follicle tidiness’_.”

This drew a laugh out of the younger man.

“Will do” he hesitated. “I'm free tonight, if you have a moment, you did say you were interested in the Junon Burgundy.”

“I am” Genesis purred. “And I'll be there.”

He told himself the happiness in those green eyes was due to the fact that when Sephiroth blacked out, someone would be able to put him to bed.

“Until later then” Sephiroth replied, glancing perfunctorily at the other two men. “Commander, Cadet.”

Genesis suppressed an amused grin as Fair popped off a formal salute, looking uncharacteristically serious. He held it until the General had disappeared into the lift, lowering his arm and looking curiously at Angeal, who was looking exasperated.

“He's not as bad as you make him out to be.”

Zack was ignored.

“Genesis” Angeal said slowly. “You didn't.”

The blue-eyed man flushed and folded his arms.

“I didn't” he muttered, somewhat defensively. “We have an understanding, but it's... complicated, and I've promised not to talk about it.”

His friend appeared to struggle with himself for a moment, his gaze landing on Zack before he apparently thought better of discussing personal matters in front of a trainee.

“Zack, can you do something for me?”

“Of course!” Genesis wondered if it was possible to be more disgustingly eager to please. “What's the plan?”

“Check in with Lieutenant Skol and ask for a report on the last flight mission to the Grasslands. I haven't had an update in a while.”

“Sir yes sir!”

They watched as the cadet bounced off in the direction of the Operations lift, tension hanging thick between them. When he was gone, Angeal spun and strode towards the opposite elevator without preamble, Genesis tailing him warily. He was tired, and while he knew he owed his friend some sort of explanation, he couldn't give away more than was necessary in order to keep Sephiroth's trust. When the doors had closed behind them, the dark-haired man whirled.

“So??”

Genesis frowned and punched the button for Residential, letting his bag drop to the floor as he rubbed his shoulder and cursed overly-perceptive friends.

“You're going to have to be more specific” he said wearily.

“You go on a mission with Sephiroth for a month; _Sephiroth_ , who you've spent practically every waking moment trying to usurp. Then you come back and you’re... you're making _bedroom_ eyes at each other!”

“ _’Bedroom eyes’_?” the redhead scoffed. “Really Angeal? Maybe we just figured out how to get along.”

His friend swore and closed his eyes, gripping the stabilizing bannister until it creaked warningly under his palms. When he had calmed, his gazed returned to Genesis and pinned him in place.

“Tell me, _'Gen’_ , does it look like I've morphed into something even remotely resembling a Moogle while you've been away?”

The younger man blinked.

“...No?”

“So please” Angeal continued through gritted teeth. “Explain to me why you _suddenly_ think I'm as _dumb_ as one?” Genesis stared mulishly at him and he continued. “Let me guess. You saw an opportunity, a good one. Sephiroth is-as far as I know-completely ignorant to romantic dalliances. You however, are not, and you've used such dalliances in the past to take advantage of others’ weaknesses-”

“It's not like that!” the younger man yelped. The lift doors slid open to reveal the stomach-clenching drop that followed the sweep of the residential quarters and he lowered his voice. “It's not like that, I swear. We just...we talked, a lot. And something... something happened in the Forest, okay?? Something that forced us to do something neither of us would have done. I didn't want to do it, I _hated_ doing it, but it was that or fucking die.” He stumbled slightly as his foot dragged on the barrier dividing the elevator and the hallway as they exited. “I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone. I can't break that promise 'Geal, I can't.”

Angeal was looking at him like he'd sprouted ten heads.

“You like him” he whispered, stopping abruptly. Genesis flushed red and opened his mouth to refute it but he was overridden. “You like him a lot.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Swallowing thickly, the blue-eyed man glanced away, out the window and onto the gleaming towers of chrome and steel. He couldn't lie. Angeal would see right through him, he always had. Truthfully, he hadn't faced the matter himself...wanted to run from it as fast as he could but it just kept pulling him back. It was relentless, like sea beating against shore.

“I... I'm working on it” he said hoarsely, starting down the row of doors once more.

He felt rather than saw his friend deflate, the anger and incredulity leaving his expression as quickly as it had come.

“Gaia, Genesis” he said quietly. “You just...pick the worst cards out of the deck don't you?”

“He's not that bad” the redhead snapped defensively, pulling out his key card as they approached his apartment and jamming it into the slot. “You don't know him.”

“That's not what I meant” Angeal sighed, following him inside. He leaned against a counter and watched as Genesis flopped onto the scarlet couch in front of his TV, a hand over his eyes. “This...this isn't going to end well. You know it. I know it.”

All the frustration, the fear, the uncertainty seemed to coalesce in his throat. For a moment, Genesis was dangerously close to hysteria. A memory far distant exploded behind his eyes, of his father looming over him with a chocobo-whip and a snarl, railing at him for his weakness.

“I know that” he hissed, bringing his knees up and staring straight ahead. “I _know_ and I've tried but it won't stop.” He took a deep breath, feeling as if all the air in the world would fail to stop him from suffocating. “It keeps growing. Every time we talk, every time I _see_ him it-!” He broke off, shuddering.

Angeal was quiet. For a while, neither of them spoke.

“This is more than 'like’” his friend finally said slowly. “Genesis, _what happened?!_ ”

It was too much.

“I can't _tell_ you!” he yelled, finally letting go of that last modicum of emotional control. Standing he grabbed the first thing that was in reach-the remote-and hurled it somewhere nondescript. Something shattered but he didn't bother looking to see what it was. “I can't. He trusts me, he told me, told me _everything_ about himself that he knows and it's so _little_ , it's so pathetically little it's heartbreaking. Then-then-in the forest we-it was just so fucked up, it wasn't anything in the mission parameters but we couldn't put it in the report because if we did one or both of us is going to end up dead. We had to rely on each other and something happened before we even went in, it took-” he shuddered and slumped back on the couch. “-It took something from me. I got it back, but it cost me more than I even care to think about. And Sephiroth, he nearly killed himself to get me out of it...then we still had to face the Forest, and the _kids_ those kids-! We were together so long, we supported each other and now we won't always be able to.” He took a gulping breath and rocked forward, pillowing his face with his arms. “I promised” he muttered, repeated it like a mantra. “I promised, I promised, I _promised_ , but it's hard and I'm carrying it alone.”

There was the crunch of broken glass as his friend traversed the space between them to sit down next to him. He exhaled shakily as a heavy, familiar arm settled across his shoulders.

“Okay” Angeal said heavily. “Okay. I get it. You promised you wouldn't tell anyone.”

“Thank you” Genesis said weakly.

The sound of the faucet dripping was driving him crazy. He'd meant to get it fixed but he'd always been too busy, and he didn't like the idea of asking someone from maintenance to come fix it. Someone who could easily tell anyone where he lived, what he liked. He valued his privacy to a degree he couldn't really describe.

“I’ll...clean this up” the dark-haired man said at length. “I pushed you to it” he continued firmly when the redhead opened his mouth to protest. “But I will say this. You're showing severe signs of PTSD. Don't deny it. I... don't want to consider what had to have happened to you for it to be this bad. I've seen the same things you've seen on the battlefield, you've never been like this before. Even if something could happen between you and Sephiroth, you need to disentangle that association from whatever went down. It can't be based on that, it's not healthy.”

A part of him...a selfish, ugly part of him wanted to protest. As much as he hated the situation that had brought them together, he had grown comfortable with it..with the sharp edge of panic and apprehension that slithered in its wake. But he knew Angeal was right.

“Okay” he said quietly.

“There's more” the dark haired man said dryly. “I want you to see a trauma counselor.” When he stiffened, the hand on his back squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Hear me out. We...the three of us...we've seen more combat than most of the army put together. You know how I was after my first mission. Sometimes I wonder how we process it, and if we are, how it's going to affect us when we’re older. I have bad nights, when my dreams are nothing but death and blood. I know you have them too, you used to scream in your sleep when we were SECONDs. This sort of stuff...it doesn't go away. I think the mako helps... mentally anyways. We can handle more physically so it makes sense that we can deal with more psychology.” He gestured vaguely. “This...what you're dealing with, I see it in newly recruited THIRDs, ones that show promise and are conditioned to face death on a regular basis to toughen them up for harder missions. You're not a THIRD, you shouldn't be reacting this way. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me, for my peace of mind.”

After a moment, Genesis nodded jerkily and something about Angeal seemed to relax.

“I want you to evaluate what your relationship with Sephiroth means. Not just now, but in the future as well.”

“I'm not going to shut him out” the younger man said quietly, his voice muffled. “I can't do that, not after all this, not after what I know. I won't abandon him, he’s lonely enough already.”

There was a deep sigh as Angeal withdrew his arm and sat back.

“I wouldn't expect you to, that's not the kind of person you are.” There was a soft jingle, and Genesis knew he was fiddling with his tags, something he always did when he was worried. “Genesis, don't let this be a relationship based on pity. He won't thank you for it.”

“It's not” the redhead said tiredly. “It's really not.”

There was a pause.

“I believe you. But please, tread carefully. If you hurt him, I don't think he'll recover.”

This gave him pause, and he lifted his head to look at his friend in surprise. Angeal's smile was soft, and little sad.

“Just because you've taken this long to realize Sephiroth is emotionally starving doesn't mean everyone has. He's fragile Genesis, and you do have a habit of breaking fragile things.”

And Genesis wanted to argue, wanted to refute the statement as a total falsehood, but he couldn't. Someone else might have taken it as a cruelty, but he'd always appreciated Angeal's honesty. A part of him wanted to pull back before he did any more damage than had already been done…

...But he knew it was far too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in four hours. I'm about to collapse. Good night. 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING:** HEAVY angst in this chapter. Serious suggestions of psychological and physical trauma.

He wasn't going to make it back in time.

Sitting under bright surgical lights with a vacutainer strapped to his forearm, Sephiroth tried to keep his emotions in check. Hojo had demanded his presence in the labs mere minutes after he'd managed to return his few belongings to his apartment. He'd traveled the length of blue-filtered hallway with a sense of terrible apprehension. At first, all seemed like it was going to go as per usual. The scientist was again distracted, glancing irritably at the clock as he stripped, beginning his physical with a sense of barely-suppressed haste. His vitals checked out perfectly, the clatter of various examination tools a distant background to his anticipation for the evening. Hojo didn't speak to him and he returned the favor with equal fervor. It was better if they didn't talk at all, it didn't give him any room to ask potentially risky questions and in turn, it didn't allow for his doctor to lose his constantly precarious temper.

Then, of course, Sephiroth's hair slipped from where it fell over his shoulder, sliding from front to back with barely a whisper. It bared the right side of his neck, which would have been fine if it hadn't been for the small, barely-distinguishable hickey Genesis had left there almost three days before. He'd forgotten about it-a grevious oversight now that he thought about it-it was miniscule and didn't ache like the throb of a contusion caused by a bullet hitting kevlar. In the blazing light of the lab fixtures it might as well have been a gaping wound. Hojo had retreated to the file cabinet to scribble something on his charts, but when he turned it was like being doused with cold water. Bespectacled eyes narrowed, focused on the the imperfection like a vulture to its prey. Sephiroth had realized what was wrong-too late of course-and the wave of nausea that came after was nearly enough to make him bolt for the door. It would have been hopeless, of course. Eventually, he'd be retrieved and the consequences would be so much worse. Instead he remained immobile, holding those familiar, terrible, mud-colored eyes with a feeling of despaired resignation.

“It seems you forgot the instructions I gave you regarding sexual congress" was the nasally sneer. He didn't reply- _knew_ that any attempt to refute or explain himself would only prolong the inevitable-instead, he let his gaze focus on the far wall, nearly lifting his hand to grasp the center of his palm before he realized he didn't have any gloves on. Hojo’s subsequent scoff caused something inside him to recoil; some small, weak remnant of the child who had once begged for mercy every time he was thrown into this room. “And of course it would be Rhapsodos who caused your fall. I _warned_ Hollander to keep his dog collared and leashed.” There was the sharp crackle of plastic wrap being torn open, the smell of antiseptic. Sephiroth tensed as his arm was swiped perfunctorily, the sharp bite of the needle pushing into a vein like bitter frost. “And did he listen to me?” A dark chuckle. _”No.”_

The silver-haired man cleared his throat, his mouth opening before he could stop it.

“He didn't-”

The slap was loud, resonating in the mostly-hollow space until it nearly rattled his teeth. Pain bloomed-quickly faded-at the edge of his jaw. Sephiroth fought the instinctual response to physically defend himself, biting down on his tongue and narrowing his eyes. A collection tube was inserted into the vacutainer as the scientist continued as if he'd done nothing at all.

“Lying won't help you, boy” was the idle comment.

Rubicund coalesced, swirled upwards in the vial and he focused on that instead of the thundering in his chest, the suddenly vertiginous sensation in his head. It had been a long time since Hojo had struck him...perhaps ten years, and only because he had been painstakingly careful not to put a toe out of line. Last time, it was because he'd been talking to Hollander. He couldn't remember the subject but he'd been caught and spent two weeks in his cell with nothing to eat. It was soon after that that he'd been moved to the President's floor. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hollander had had something to do with that too, but he wasn't someone to look a gift horse in the mouth. It got him away from the lab, it was liberating.

“You'd better hope that these tests come back the way I want them to. Otherwise, you'll be out of commission for a long time, possibly permanently.”

As the doors shut behind that insidious swirl of white coat, Sephiroth tried not to show how much the statement terrified him. There was verity in it, he knew it. Hojo could declare him unfit for duty at any time, and then it was all over. He was pushing thirty in any case, and field missions became scarce for any SOLDIER over forty. He didn't want that to become a possibility any sooner. And that left him there, thinking of how Genesis must have given him up for a lost cause and gone home. Of how he _had_ to stop this before it was hopeless. ...Of how it more than likely already was.

Leaving Genesis on the landing pad was harder than he'd thought it would be...wanted it to be. He'd grown fond of his presence, however irritating. There was an understanding between them that mingled with an odd sensation of security. It was strange to think of himself as _'safe’_ with the redhead, but that was the closest emotion he could compare it to. There was the stark truth that in the world of war and politics this meant little, but he couldn't shake it off as nothing. He was intrinsically aware of how significant the feeling was. Sephiroth respected some, trusted very few, had faith in fewer, and he put a distinct divide between respect, faith, and trust.

Sephiroth respected Lazard and his Drill Sergeants because they’d taught him what he knew. He respected Hojo because he always kept his word, no matter how terrible his word might be. He trusted Shinra to execute missions and deliver paperwork because that was what they had been doing to him for ten years. He could trust that the Turks were monitoring his every move because they'd done little else for him since he entered the SOLDIER program. Sephiroth had faith in his men, in Angeal and Genesis, faith that they'd have his back, and that they would leave him behind if need be to finish a mission. He felt safe with Genesis, which was a cumulation of faith, trust, respect, affection and desire. Two of those emotions he'd never felt about anyone before. The affection alarmed him more than the desire. Desire was a base emotion, borne from carnal instinct. If he thought hard about it, he could acknowledge that it was strange that he hadn't experienced it before. Affection was a developed emotion; nurtured with time and trust. A month wasn't a lot of time, which told him that perhaps it had been there for a while, slowly building underneath Genesis’ cutting comments and his stoic indifference. This was alarming, because affection wasn't far off from endearment, and endearment was incredibly close to love.

Exhaling shakily, Sephiroth shifted slightly, cradling the arm with the vacutainer as he mentally recited Section 16 Chapter 444 of the Efficient Squad Management Manual. It was a thick book, he'd never been particularly fond of it, but Lazard insisted it was integral to his training. Soft, ivory pages whose binding was older than Shinra itself and a blue cover...blue with gold lettering, blue like his eyes-

- _No._

The clock. He could focus on the clock. It was currently 22:55:13. He was usually in bed by 23:00:00.

 _”If you don't pass out on the floor”_ an insidious voice in the back of his head whispered.

He pushed it aside, stared at the digital lettering while his thoughts strayed to how much he'd have to drink in order to forget what was coming. Not integral. Irresponsible really, but it was a habit and he'd been away from that habit for a month. With Genesis he didn't even have to think about it but here, alone-

_-”You've always been alone, don't fool yourself.”_

The door to the lab swinging open was the only thing that kept him from throwing a tray of surgical equipment across the room. Hojo's expression was more relaxed, but it didn't hold any less of a threat. Sephiroth exhaled inwardly. Whatever he'd been looking for in his labs was obviously absent, that was good. If anything about this situation could be called 'good’. The scientist regarded him for a moment, his eyes shrouded behind those obnoxious, round spectacles he'd come to both hate and fear. Then the man whirled and stalked towards a familiar cabinet, one that he knew contained suxamethonium chloride. Suppressing a shudder as the grey-haired man pulled out a vial, Sephiroth strangled the tiny, white-haired boy who screamed for mercy in his chest with an iron fist. Mentally, he began building up walls to negate the inevitable pain. Conscious surgical procedure it was. He'd be paralyzed from the shoulders down, but with all his sensory faculties fully functional.

“Your labs were satisfactory” Hojo remarked as he flicked a syringe. Dark eyes met green eyes as claw-like hands grasped his arm and lined up the vacutainer. “Your actions however, were not.” Sephiroth narrowed his eyes as the scientist injected the chloride but didn't reach for any tools, instead he picked up a pair of standard latex gloves. “I'll be giving you a full examination. Remove your fatigues.”

Laying back on the table with his arms strapped down and his legs spread, Sephiroth acknowledged that he would rather the surgery. Hojo knew exactly how to humiliate him, he should have anticipated it, but it seemed he'd not thought far enough ahead. And as mind-bending, intrusive humiliation washed over him he wondered if Genesis would think him so great a SOLDIER now, if he could see him like this. Minutes later, when he was so agitated he'd vomited over the side of the table, shrill laughter ringing in his ears, he concluded that no, he wouldn't.

* * *

 There were 2,453 lights mounted on the walls passing from the Scientific Division to the President's floor. Sephiroth counted himself lucky that he didn't run into anyone on the way up, he wasn't sure if he could have refrained from killing anyone who talked to him. Very few workers remained in the building after 0100. Janitors carried a shift from 2330 to 0130 and most were done before midnight, spending the remainder of their rotation in the cafeteria gossiping. When he was younger, he used to curl up in a corner behind a potted plant and listen to what they were saying. It only ended when he was too tall to fit behind it and got caught by an early-rising cafeteria clerk. He missed it for a while, the illusion of shared camaraderie, but that quickly faded in the face of his new duties to the company. His youth had been fleeting and swift, nothing but a soft gasp of a memory when he tried to recall it.

By the time Hojo let him leave, he'd dressed and hit the ground running. He hadn't uttered a sound or-mercifully-dissolved into a pool of tears but it was a near thing. It had truly been a long time and he'd forgotten that the man had no limits he wouldn't test, no boundaries he couldn't push. He was in his very late twenties and the idea that an old, ugly and-admittedly-deranged scientist halfway into his geriatric stage could reduce him to a trembling, horror-filled mess was humiliating. Sephiroth had killed thousands of people, he'd watched children die in their parents’ arms, laid waste to cities filled with innocent civilians and gone home to have a decent night's sleep. Two hours in a whitewashed laboratory and he wanted to throw himself into a reactor. It was pathetic.

It took him three tries to fit his key card into the lock. Not content with assaulting his pride, Hojo had ended their session with a dose of mako that had nearly rendered him unconscious. He'd been assured that if he _did_ pass out he'd wake up in his old cell, and it was that single, insidious promise that had given him enough strength to leave the Scientific Division and stagger seventeen stories up to his apartment.

There was a familiar _***beep***_ , the hiss of the lock disengaging and Sephiroth stumbled into the foyer before slamming the door and sliding down the wall to sit against it with his head between his knees. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to compartmentalize the experience, to put it on a mental shelf next to the thousands of others he'd had before. He visualized the emotion and then did everything in his power to push it away. It was impossible. He was compromised, horribly compromised and he didn't know how to rectify it. For anything else, he might have requested an extensive away mission, but he'd just gotten back from one and the Board would want him there to field press reports and talk to executives. The Brass would want to grill him tactically and the Turks would want verbal workups as well as paper reports. A request for a 'vacation’ away to kill insurgents was laughable. It would damage his record and there would be concerns about 'bloodlust.’

It took him a few minutes to realize the lights were on.

For a brief, hysterical moment he thought that perhaps Hojo had sent in a Retrieval Squad and his thoughts immediately went to options of escape. Scrabbling at the doorknob, his hair caught underneath him, he forced himself to think objectively. He was in no shape to outrun a group of specialists that had been trained in ways to incapacitate him since he'd been born. He was a sitting duck and pawing at the door like some sort of misguided mutt would only give away his position. A soft snore shattered his panicked delusion and he wondered for a minute if he'd gone completely insane. Another noisy exhalation followed the first and he pressed heavy palms to his eyes, digging them in as exhaustion threatened to overcome him. He could stay here, right here and sleep by the door. Whoever had broken into his apartment and evidently fallen asleep could kill him in the morning. He might not even try to stop them. His mind wandered to a particularly heady flask of Esperian Báijiǔ stowed in the kitchen. A distraction, he needed a distraction.

That would do.

Standing on unsteady legs, Sephiroth exited the entryway without glancing in the direction of the living room. The SOLDIER in him whispered that this was possibly the stupidest thing he could ever do, but he was feeling more like the end of a dirty mop than a SOLDIER so he ignored himself. The kitchen lights were off, he didn't particularly need them but the ritual aspect of it was equally important so he flipped the switch and walked to the end of a row of cupboards, glancing to his left at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Midgar out of habit rather than necessity. Opening the topmost cabinet, the neatly stacked glasses in front of him nearly threw him into hysterics all over again. Not because he hadn't arranged them that way, but because it was such a terrible outward contrast to what he was inwardly feeling. Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, he averted his focus and reached instead for the glimmer of white on the top shelf.

“... Seph?”

Watching the Báijiǔ fall was a surreal experience. Like the slow tumble of a snowflake on the edges of a blizzard, the container glinted in the light as it made turn over turn, a victim to gravity. The thought of how much it had cost crossed his mind, of how old it was and how he'd probably never see another in his lifetime. It shattered soundlessly, shards flying in every direction, like the upspray of the tide against high cliffs. There was the sting of something against his palm, a warm heat that coalesced at his fingertips and then fell to join the mess on the floor. For a long time it seemed like he was suspended out of existence, observing everything around him from a distance that was too great to traverse. Someone was saying something in increasingly agitated tones, but it was like trying to listen to a TV program several floors down; muted with a buzz of static. Only when another hand touched him-on his arm, tentative, somewhat hesitant-did reality come barreling back into his brain. It was like coming up for air after an eternity submerged, the sensations flooding into him like wildfire. The lights were too bright, the hum of the fridge too loud, the touch on his arm suddenly felt aggressive and confining. He pulled away, his head jerking back as he did so and slamming against the bullet-proof glass behind him. Pain blossomed at the back of his skull but he ignored it, stumbling backwards as if the three-inch glass would miraculously give and let him plunge down...away from whoever was trying to get him.

_”Sephiroth!”_

It was the concern that finally reached him. For some reason, it was more confusing than the menace he had initially perceived. Because who could possibly be worried about him? He was a disgrace, utterly inadequate. He focused in on two pinpoints of blue, blue like sapphires, blue like the skies under Northern summers, blue like the ocean. Genesis’ face slowly came into focus; a mask of concern, alarm, and-even more predominantly-terror.

Because of him.

He was a monster.

Nausea rose in the back of his throat and he couldn't stop it. Staggering upwards, ignoring the redhead's protests, Sephiroth focused on putting one foot in front of the other to make it to the bathroom, gagging as he did so. Expelling whatever was left in his body didn't make it any better. The room seemed to reel around him and every time he thought he'd gotten ahold of himself it would hit him again until he was doubled over. Genesis was muttering something about Angeal and he wanted to tell him _no_ , that he'd had enough humiliation for the day to last him the rest of his life but he couldn't draw enough breath to vocalize his entreaty.

It seemed like minutes, like hours, like _days_ spent in some sort of heinous purgatory but eventually he was left to dry heave over the rim of the toilet, his stomach empty. Someone was kneeling beside him, holding his hair out of the way and talking to someone he couldn't see. Allowing himself a moment, Sephiroth pressed his forehead to a clean section of porcelain and closed his eyes, letting the coolness of the surface seep into his skin. When he lifted his head, Genesis passed him a warm, wet cloth and he took it wordlessly; wiping his mouth and face before passing it back again. His fellow FIRST moved away to dispose of it in the hamper and Angeal took his place, hooking his arm over his shoulder and under his armpit to help him up.

They all eventually settled in the living room, Sephiroth on the couch and Genesis and Angeal in armchairs on either side, clearly wary of encroaching on his space. For a few minutes there was silence, and he sensed the two men were gathering their thoughts.

“That's the worst case of mako poisoning I've ever seen” Angeal finally remarked, and there was a brittle quality to his voice that made the silver-haired man want to flinch away.

Genesis’ answering laugh was high-pitched, somewhat hysterical. It was enough to make Sephiroth lift his head. His friends’ eyes were red-rimmed and watery, he didn't like to think what kind of previous emotion that entailed.

“Let's not beat around the bush” the redhead said in a somewhat nasally voice. “That was more than a mako overdose.”

Angeal shot the man a warning look, his lips in a thin line. There was the soft crinkle of faux leather as someone shifted in their seat. The two seemed to be waiting for him to collect himself. Sephiroth wasn't sure if that was physically possible. Now that the roiling panic of the moment had passed he felt completely hollowed out, devoid of any emotion. More prominent than anything was how utterly tired he was. What with the events of the mission and Hojo's obscenities, he didn't know if he could even make it to the bedroom, let alone try to explain himself to two friends that were obviously worried sick about him.

“You're bleeding.”

He blinked.

Genesis was kneeling in front of him, one hand tentatively outstretched to brush against the inside of his palm. Shaking himself out his reverie, the General rotated his wrist, observing the thin red line that was already coagulating from whatever injury he'd sustained from the flying glass. When he didn't pull away immediately, dexterous fingers wrapped a length of gauze over the cut, spanning between his forefinger and thumb to cross over his knuckles and around the other side. This was repeated thrice and then secured with medical tape. When he was done, the redhead cautiously sank down on the couch beside him, tangling his fingers through a stray lock of hair. A part of him acknowledged that closeness was the last thing he should want right now, but Genesis’ nearness was comforting, not repellant. The scent of him was familiar after weeks spent together in the field and he felt himself relax minimally. He cleared his throat.

“Hojo was... overly enthusiastic with my return” he said, his voice hoarse from disuse.

More than that right now, and he'd break. He couldn't face it, not with exhaustion hammering behind his eyes and the memory so fresh.

“Genesis...told me something happened in the field” Angeal said slowly. When Sephiroth looked alarmed he hurried to continue. “He didn't say what it was, but it's obviously had severe consequences for both of you. I've recommend he see a trauma counselor and I will reiterate the same advice to you.”

“I can't” the silver-haired man said stiffly. “All my medical needs are fielded through Hojo. He'd see it as a weakness, I can't give him that opening. Especially after tonight I-” he broke off, swallowing thickly. A warm hand was placed on his knee and he steadied somewhat. “Hojo isn't the type of person who wants to examine emotional trauma, especially for someone like me. It would be a statement of his failure to keep me in line, of his research. He'd take it out on me.”

“I don't really get why you can't see Hollander” Genesis mused.

“Because as much as Shinra owns me, Hojo owns me more. He's been my caregiver since I was born, so any recommendation regarding my status goes through him and the Board doesn't question it.”

Angeal looked faintly disturbed.

“That... doesn't seem right. What about your family?”

Sephiroth hesitated, his gaze darting between his two comrades. Genesis seemed to pick up on his distress and took the reigns.

“Why don't we pick this up in the morning?” he said gently, the look he sent to his childhood friend brokering no questions. Grasping the younger man’s arm with a gentleness that was humiliating, the blue-eyed man hauled him to his feet. “C’mon Seph, let's get you in bed.”

Angeal murmured a distracted good night as they passed, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“I'm sorry” Sephiroth said quietly when they were out in the hall. “I told you I'd be here and then when I was I caused all...all this.” He waved a vague hand.

“This isn't your fault” Genesis said firmly, letting go of him to push open the door to his bedroom without preamble. “Hojo…” he appeared to struggle with himself. “I'd like to challenge him to a duel.”

This brought a brittle laugh out of Sephiroth as he sat down on the edge of the mattress to kick off his boots.

“I'd like to see that.”

The redhead smiled, a little weakly.

“It'd be over in five seconds. Not much honor there I'm afraid.” He paused. “I'm...going to stay here tonight, on the sofa. Don't argue with me” he snapped as Sephiroth opened his mouth to do just that. “This...scared me, okay? And I don't want to be so far away from you right now.”

He tried not to think about how much that statement warmed him. Standing to pull back the coverlet, he nodded jerkily.

“Okay.”

His friend’s expression softened with relief, and he tried to school his face into impassivity as the redhead crossed the space between them to cup his cheek, bringing him around so he could look into his eyes.

“Thank you” he murmured, his thumb stroking a line down his jaw. For a moment his gaze flitted to his lips, and Sephiroth almost wished he would just do it, to make him forget...but then Genesis was pulling away and walking to the door. “Call me, if you need me.”

As the door shut behind him, the General acknowledged that both of them knew the comment was superfluous. He wasn't the type to scream for someone after waking from a nightmare. Angeal came in several minutes later to bid him good night, and to encourage him to comm him if he needed anything. Settling back into the pillows, Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder if it was all genuine. Then the fear in Genesis’ expression surfaced in his memories and he immediately felt guilty for even thinking about it so cynically. He tried to think he was going to be alright, but he wasn't entirely sure. He went on to worry if this would affect Genesis in any way, agonized over it even while darkness crept into the edges of this vision. And as sleep rushed up to meet him he wished for one mere night of dreamless sleep, of unconscious peace.

He didn't get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Sephiroth.  
> I hope this wasn't too much. And I hope I captured Sephiroth's pain without making him seem weak.
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	11. Chapter 11

Sleep was out of the question.

Genesis spent the remainder of the night curled up on the sofa imagining terrible, painful things he could do to the scientist currently seventeen floors below him. It probably wasn't therapeutic, and it certainly wasn't healthy but it made him feel better and it chased away the bone-deep terror that had filled him hours before. Mako poisoning was nothing to sneeze at. He'd had it perhaps twice and Angeal went through it quite a few times, mostly during the beginning of their training. It was impossible for even the most skilled scientist to measure exactly how much a single person could handle when they were building up a tolerance, and Hollander had taken good care of them afterwards. If he had to pick the worst thing about it, it would probably be the sensation of his blood being cold...and the thought that he would never be warm again. Many SOLDIER hopefuls simply couldn't handle it, a handful occasionally died.

That night was more than mako. Genesis would never forget the sight of the man trying to essentially _melt_ through a window, like the sight before him was more terrifying than the idea of plunging thousands of feet to certain death. He'd seen such expressions before, in victims of human trafficking if he were perfectly honest with himself. The luminescent, injection-infused glow of those emerald eyes was going to haunt him for weeks; the vision of Sephiroth trying to claw his way out if a situation like a man who had endured years of physical and psychological abuse was a dark stain on his psyche. It made sense, when he thought about it. Hojo would have had to break Sephiroth very young in order to get him to be so compliant; to not risk self-injury when conducting whatever twisted experiment his sights were set on at the time. He spoke of the man with disdain, but now the redhead could see that it was a disdain that poorly masked a deep, insidious well of terrible fear.

It brought the enormity of what had happened in the Forest to the forefront of his mind, and the guilt he felt was staggering. Sephiroth was-essentially-built to be an extension of Shinra’s reach. Everything about him was layers of ingrained instruction and political dogma. Goddess, he had _suggestive keywords_ that could drop him like a sack of potatoes if he got out of line in the field. As deadly as the man was, he wasn't entirely his own person. A good part of him was encased in years of conditioning made concrete by even more years of psychological torture. Genesis did not like to think of what could happen if that conditioning was suddenly neutralized during a time of severe mental distress. The fallout would be catastrophic. You couldn't keep someone so mentally and physically superior confined forever, and if- _when_ -Sephiroth shattered, cities would burn. He wondered-with a kind of sardonic disdain-if Shinra knew that they had created what amounted to a time bomb with levels of destruction that were potentially genocidal. Briefly, he allowed himself to envision HQ exploding in a conflagration of flame and smoke.

He discovered-with no small amount of self-disgust-that he wasn't entirely adverse to the idea.

Genesis had-however unwittingly-given Sephiroth a porthole image of how other people lived and managed their emotions. Now that that seed had taken root, it was only a matter of time before the man either walked away from Shinra and turned into a hermit or razed the entire city to the ground. Hojo's attempt at damage control was poorly executed; not only because it was inhumane, but because every negative action he or the Board took from now on would only solidify Sephiroth's slowly blooming viewpoint that Shinra was evil and had taken unspeakable liberties to rob him of his basic human rights.

Genesis couldn't really imagine Sephiroth as a hermit.

Shifting under a standard-issue blanket he'd found in the cabinet, the redhead examined the options in front of him. First and foremost, he needed their genetic records. He might as well get Angeal's as well as long as he was taking gross advantage of several not-so-hygienic fucks he'd managed to wrangle as a new recruit. A younger version of him wouldn't particularly care that he was resorting to blackmail to get what he wanted, but his age and the knowledge of how much his actions could damage others did nothing for his conscience. The agent in question was far from stupid and it would take more than a well-placed threat to earn her compliance. Still, she was married with family, and that could be taken advantage of as well. The mere fact that he could think along those lines made him somewhat queasy, but he was quickly descending from anxious to desperate and there was very little he could do about it. He had the distinct impression that he was already running out of time.

Just as he was slowly descending into a restless slumber the door to the bedroom creaked open and he pulled the blanket from his head with a kind of resigned exhaustion. Listening to feet cross the hall to the bathroom, he sat up and checked the clock; it was 0730, far past the time he would usually rise and probably eons beyond when Sephiroth would. He sincerely hoped that meant that at least one of them had gotten a decent night's sleep. They had to meet with the President at 0930 and it would be better if someone had a clear head on their shoulders. The sound of the shower eventually prompted him to get up and put the blanket away, deliberating for a moment before deciding to take advantage of the coffee machine. Out of all of them, Sephiroth was the least inclined to share his personal space. At first, Genesis had thought it was because he was a snob. Now he knew better, and he felt terrible for thinking that way.

With the coffee brewing, the redhead glanced at the cafeteria-issued delivery menu glowing faintly from its inset on the refrigerator. It was digital-wireless, and changed every day according to what was being offered. Hesitating but a moment, he punched in two orders for eggs, toast, and bacon and requested it be left at the door. He then wandered over to a cabinet to pull down two forks. Eating out of styrofoam was fine but he disliked plastic utensils and avoided using them if he could. The fridge was devoid of anything remotely resembling milk or creamer and he resigned himself to the awful powdered stuff in the cabinet as he pulled it out along with the sugar. The shower stopped running and he tilted his head to listen as he fished around a bit before coming up with two nondescript mugs. Angeal had helped him clean up before he left, something he was distinctly grateful for now. He didn't think he was awake enough to scrub blood and alcohol off the kitchen floor. The smell was still there but it was only a faint undertone to the powerful overlay of mopping solution.

A few minutes later Sephiroth padded into the kitchen, more than likely drawn by the smell of coffee. He wore his fatigues and a loose, plain, black turtleneck but had apparently not opted to put on his coat and armor until later. It was strange Genesis reflected, leaning against the counter and blowing on his coffee, he didn't think he'd ever seen the man without standard-issue garb or official uniform before. It was a testament to his level of comfort around him that he was in anything but and some small part of him was quietly happy about it. A quiet knock on the door and Sephiroth very nearly shattered his coffee cup, fingers slipping before he managed to stabilize himself as his expression morphed into one of irritated resignation.

“It's just breakfast” Genesis murmured, placing an idle hand on his shoulder as he swept past to get the door. “I'll go get it but then I'm going to borrow your shower.”

A non-committal grunt was his only response, and he didn't deign to press the younger man for more. He knew from experience that Sephiroth wasn't a morning person. Setting their food on the coffee table in the living room, Genesis grabbed the bag of clothes Angeal had brought up for him and sequestered himself in the bathroom. 'Disturbing’ didn't quite cover his opinion of his options for washing. It seemed his friend only used standard-issue soap and shampoo, which smelled a bit like his deceased grandmother if he tilted his head and squinted hard. He didn't linger under the spray, preferring to wash and dress quickly in order to have a somewhat decent stretch of time to finish his breakfast. Sephiroth didn't have anything even remotely resembling a hairdryer-much to his chagrin-and he toweled his hair dry as best he could before returning to the general living space. By that time, the silver-haired man was sitting on the couch making headway with his meal, his eyes fixed on the television which was tuned to a local news station. Genesis joined him and took a few minutes to watch what amounted to their return to Shinra before giving it up as nothing but a pathetic attempt to piece together what they'd been doing. There was only vague speculation and he was glad for it.

Chewing on a slice of bacon and watching as the Sephiroth on screen put a hand on his shoulder, he mentally groaned. His answering smile was far too telling, and he lingered too long under the General's touch for it to be nothing more than a perfunctory gesture. He was sure that if he flipped the station to a less- reputed source it would be wild with suppositions of their newfound 'friendship.’ It was no secret that they had failed to get along in the past, and the public was sure to make a debacle about the sudden change. He made a mental note to expect an unusually exuberant call from his father in the near future.

“We need to go.” Sephiroth's voice startled him, drawing him out of his musings and making him glance at the clock, it was 0915. After his bland declaration, the silver-haired man disappeared into his bedroom to finish dressing and Genesis made a point to clean up the kitchen before waiting at the door. It was only a minute or two before his fellow FIRST joined him, reaching for the doorknob before hesitating and turning back to him, his eyes veiled. “Thank you” he said quietly. “For staying.”

Genesis smiled, a little tiredly.

“Anytime.”

Their talk on the way to Corporate was idle, devoid of any mentions of the night before. There were too many listening ears in HQ and personal conversations in the halls were out of the question. He didn't particularly relish the idea of bringing up such a serious subject with so little sleep under his belt in any case. They discussed company matters they might have missed while away and Genesis made a point of snagging yet another cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup when they passed the cafeteria. This wasn't so unusual; what _was_ unusual was that Sephiroth waited for him just outside the door. He tried not to feel too smug about it.

It was strange-he reflected, as they passed a group of what appeared to be company-affiliated attorneys making there way to Legal-life in Shinra had gone on as usual while they were gone. Since they'd returned he felt out of place and restless. In a different time he might have been looking forward to a sparring session and lunch with Angeal, time between missions and work was a precious thing. He was somewhat enthusiastic about spending time with his childhood friend but more than that, his mind was turning to what he wanted with whatever was between himself and the silent, stoic man beside him. Still, it was only the first day, he imagined most SOLDIERS who had served Shinra felt the same after a certain amount of time. Genesis nodded to a Turk who passed them, not waiting to see if the gesture was returned. He'd never considered settling down before; a year ago and he'd have scoffed at the very idea. But that evening, after Angeal had left and before he'd gone up to the General's quarters, he'd realized that for Sephiroth he'd probably do it.

It was both a terrifying and exhilarating realization. Terrifying because he was sure that if he told the man in question he'd run for the hills. Exhilarating because it felt like something he'd been waiting for for a very long time. Glancing to the side, at the rigid profile to his right, Genesis sighed inwardly. They needed to address it regardless, and not in a casual, flirtatious manner like they had that morning after leaving the forest. Angeal was right about seeking professional help, but he doubted he could get it without putting one or both of them at risk. Shinra was only confidential to a certain extent, and FIRSTs were privy to a scrutiny that would leave most civilians shouting about their rights to discretion. As much as he wanted to pretend it would go well, they lived in an Industrialized Stratocracy, there was no room for weakness. He hated lying to Angeal, but as loyal as the man was he was also a little bit blind to the corruption around them. Raised poor, with little options for education beyond High School, Angeal was grateful for what he had and if that meant he had to turn a blind eye then so be it. Genesis had held a similar vein of thought for a very long time, but such a viewpoint was becoming impossible.

“Good morning General, Commander.”

He liked Apple. _Liked_ her. She was great in bed, smart and beautiful in a way that was completely terrifying. He did _not_ like how she was looking at Sephiroth. As the President's Official Secretary, he didn't want to know how she’d made it into such a prestigious position, especially as a former slummer. Rumor had it there was a trail of bodies behind her as wide as Midgar was round. People died just for asking her the wrong questions, and he did not need to be on her hit list just because she was looking at the General like he was the most delicious sandwich she'd ever laid eyes on. A part of him was vehemently agreeing with her, another part was thinking of how wonderfully long her legs were, yet another wanted to throw her out a window. Sephiroth was-apparently-unmoved.

“Ms. Bryre. Please ask Reno to inform the President we’re here per request.”

Lips the color of cardinals parted to reveal perfectly straight, pearlescent teeth. Long, scarlet hair was thrown over one shoulder as Apple rose to do do as she was bid; her form-fitting, navy blue business dress was just open enough that he could see the tops of pale, perfect breasts that he knew were completely flawless. Genesis thought-with an edge of hysteria-that the fact that he still wanted to lick one of her stilettos while she pressed him up against the headboard with the other was probably a sign of severe narcissism. A redhead and a redhead in bed was a terrible mix in the first place. The stark truth that he occasionally wore the same color lipstick to a shady dive bar on the edges of the city was irrelevant.

“You should do the talking” he muttered. “I'm running on about ten minutes of sleep, I can't remember how to tie a pair of sneakers let alone answer underhanded questions from Shinra's top executive.”

Sephiroth almost immediately looked contrite, opened his mouth to perhaps say something apologetic. Apple chose that moment to sashay back into the room and Genesis wondered offhandedly if her butt had gotten larger or if he'd simply spent so much time out in the wilderness that he was turning into a sex-deprived monster. He glanced at Sephiroth to find that he was looking at him in a way that was not a little bit accusing and he fought the urge to simply collapse into a confused puddle on the floor. Because while he might be all-in with the idea of commitment he was still not entirely able to ignore the fact they were standing in the same room with a woman who could make him orgasm three times in the space of an hour.

“He's ready to see you now.”

Genesis pretended not to notice the sultry wink that was thrown his way as they passed the open door that led to the Executive Conference Room.

The President was unusually interested in their mission, and while he took a verbal backseat, Genesis was very careful to ensure that he participated enough to look like he'd been just as invested as his comrade. They went over the mission several times and while the man in front of them was obviously paying close attention every time, he was unsatisfied with their account and kept asking for further information. This, of course, they could not give and every time he was told to start over at the beginning he could sense Sephiroth becoming more and more agitated.

“It says here that you encountered no hindrance prior to your encounter with the Ankheg in Bone Village.”

“That is correct” Sephiroth said tightly, leather-clad hands flexing minimally atop the lacquered table.

“And yet _I_ have reports of a dead Zolom perhaps sixty miles outside of Midgar.” The General stiffened and the fat man smirked. “It seems strange, doesn't it, that a beast of such size was effortlessly slain on the same night the two of you departed for Kalm?”

“It was a minor concern” the General replied flatly. “SOLDIERs aren't required to report every beast they dispatch during long term missions.”

“Every mid-level and below monster and small skirmishes of five persons or less” the President pressed, his face morphing into a leer. “Zoloms are considered a Class A threat.”

“We were tired” Genesis cut in. “It was late and we still had several hours to go before we made it to town.”

“Your failure I can understand” the impossible man scoffed, not sparing him a glance. “Your clauses don't run directly within this company, as unfortunate as that may be. You however General, are fully aware of what is required of you.”

“It won't happen again.”

“No, it won't. Though it does bring me to wonder if either of you conveniently 'forgot’ anything else.” He waved a meaty hand when Sephiroth opened his mouth to speak. “I am disappointed boys, very disappointed. The families of these children have justice, but not answers. This concludes our meeting.”

They rose without preamble, passing an unusually silent Reno and exiting the room, not sparing a glance for Apple when she wished them a 'pleasant day.’

“He didn't care a whit about the fucking Zolom” Genesis muttered, once they were out of earshot of the front desk. Sephiroth grunted his assent but didn't reply. “We should talk about this, later.”

He let the comment dangle, hoping that the General would take the bait. Unfortunately, Sephiroth's comm chose that moment to go off. The redhead waited impatiently as the man unclipped the device from his belt and scrolled through his messages.

“Lazard wants me to check the efficiency of the new VR room stimulations” he muttered, tossing a lock of hair over his shoulder.

Genesis sighed.

“You'd better go then. I'm going to try to catch some sleep.”

The General nodded absentmindedly, beginning to turn away before hesitating.

“Tonight. At 2100” he said stiffly.

The redhead beamed, he couldn't help himself.

“I'll be there.”

Sephiroth appeared to struggle with himself before he turned and swept away, down the hall that led to the elevators. Genesis allowed himself a minute to savor his triumph before treading a path to Residential. The President's attitude was concerning, he had to admit. If he was involved there was very little they could do to prevent it. Shinra ran things under the pretence of honor-based business and defense, but it was just a cover up for unsavory deeds done in the shadows. He couldn't as of yet piece together what their mission findings meant, other than that Sephiroth was somehow-unwittingly-involved. The entire situation was unpleasant when he stopped to think about it long enough. Reaching the lift that would take him up to his apartment, he put such thoughts aside for a time when he wasn't so tired.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Genesis got about three hours of sleep before Angeal called him demanding an update. Listening to how worried he sounded over the phone, Genesis felt guilty about not informing him that everything was okay earlier. It didn't matter how tired he'd been, he should have at least sent him an email. From 1300 to 1630 he attempted to catch up on his paperwork, which had mounted into a horrifying pile that nearly reached the ceiling of his office.  
He met up with Angeal at the cafeteria around 1700 where they ate dinner and then sparred until 2000. He kept up the appearance of being worried about Sephiroth in order to reconcile him going back to his quarters that night. This was partly true, he was indeed worried, but the reasons behind his concern were vaster and more convoluted than Angeal thought they were.

Genesis spent his remaining hour checking invoices before showering briefly, pulling on a pair of casual slacks and a long-sleeved sweater. HQ was perpetually cold; the temperature hovering somewhere between sixty and sixty-five degrees on a near-constant basis. You got used to it after a while, especially with the added bonus of what amounted to buckets of mako in your system, but shorts and a T-shirt were something he'd gone without for years and he pretty sure Sephiroth would consider it unduly risque. He wasn't trying to send that kind of message. Not yet anyway.

The man in question was in the process of scrubbing out what appeared to be a saucepan in the sink when Genesis arrived. It struck him as incredibly odd at first, but it made sense that the silver-haired man would at least know the basics of cooking; he rarely saw him in the cafeteria. They exchanged obligatory pleasantries but is was clear that the younger man had his guard up. Adversely, he seemed more physically relaxed and the redhead guessed that hacking the shit out of simulated adversaries in the VR room probably had something to do with it. Leaning against the counter to the right of the sink, Genesis crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“You gonna show me your stash?”

Sephiroth's expression relaxed somewhat as it became apparent the redhead wasn't going to press serious topics right off the bat. Throwing a dish towel over the faucet, he jerked his head towards the living room and exited the kitchen with the older man following. Beside the couch was a small rectangular coffee table too small to hold anything useful and too big to serve as a display fixture. Placing a large palm at the center of the oaken surface, the General pressed down and Genesis watched as the panel gave way slightly, a soft hiss issuing from the blank wall that hid Sephiroth's bedroom from view. A thin section of wall slid soundlessly to the side in two parts; one to the left and the other right. The older man swallowed and tried his best not to appear impressed.

The collection rivaled even his father's in size, though by his knowledge the head of the Rhapsodos family kept it more for show and less for personal taste. He counted maybe twelve rows that were carefully arranged by vintage, type, and date. His eye caught several labels that he was almost certainly positive were illegal. While he was trying not to do a very succinct impression of a particularly vapid fish, his host had stepped forward to pull two tumblers from a hanging glass rack, along with a decanter.

“...You can't order all of this under your name” Genesis said incredulously. “If your movements are monitored your bank account has to be. You'd be in AA every day.”

“I don't” the green-eyed man said calmly, pulling a bottle down from a shelf. “I have an anonymous online account that deposits via encoded script. The company I work with is black market, so they aren't interested in anything but my money. They deliver under the guise of different types of repairmen. The bulk of this was ordered shortly after I moved in and I usually only request something three to five times a year. It's taken nearly a decade to accumulate this much.”

“Wait” the redhead muttered. “So when you were moving...say, a mattress up here, you were actually moving a mattress-sized box full of alcohol?”

Sephiroth smirked but didn't reply, preferring to set a glass in front of him and explain its historical and alchemical properties. It was good, and while Genesis was having trouble processing the fact that the General was probably more of an expert on spirits than he was, he supposed someone could have far worse hobbies. They turned to casual topics, the silver-haired man admitted the updates to the VR room were fairly good and Genesis was eager to try one of the newer simulations. He was itching for a challenge and while sparring with Angeal was fun, his friend was somewhat inclined to fight fair. He was good, excellent even, but the redhead liked an occasional dirty fight. Sephiroth was all-to-willing to fit that persona at any time but he was fairly sure the entire experience would arouse him to the brink of incoherency. Eventually their discussion led them back to their morning in the President's office.

“This isn't going to be easy” Genesis sighed, toying with the rim of his glass. “Honestly, if I wasn't so invested in it at this point I'd be tempted to back out.”

“I'd encourage you to do so” his friend grumbled, leaning against the wall next to the bar. “But I don't think you'd listen to me.”

The redhead grinned.

“An excellent observation.”

“If you're caught…” Sephiroth hesitated, his expression morphing halfway into a grimace before he downed the remainder of his drink and reached for another.

“I know” the older man groused. “But it seems like an equally bad idea to ignore the problem entirely.” He shifted and rubbed two fingers between his brows. “I think I'll start with our records and if nothing comes to light there I'm going to have to talk to Apple.”

His fellow SOLDIER snorted.

“Ms. Bryre is nowhere near as gullible as some hapless agent in the Archives.”

“Yeah but she likes me and she did promise me a favor for-” Genesis paused and realized that how he had gained such a favor would probably not increase Sephiroth's esteem for him.

“...For?”

There was a teasing demeanor to the dulcet tones in that familiar voice, and he cursed his inability to be scrupulous past his third drink.

“...I may have loaned her an article of clothing she was wanting, but didn't have the means to acquire it without scrutiny.”

If the man wasn't so good at hiding his emotions, the redhead was sure the General would be grinning. As it was, emerald irises were practically dancing under silver lashes.

“...And you did?”

“I know people” he snapped, giving discrepancy up for a lost cause and flailing for the decanter. “If you have a problem with it, you should probably tell me before I’m too invested in this.”

Silence reigned.

Miserably, Genesis reflected that it was probably the worst thing he could have said. He avoided looking at the man across from him by burying his face in his glass.

“I need you to clarify your statement.”

Sephiroth's tone was cold and detached, and the Commander braced himself for the worst as he formulated his response.

“I…” he swallowed thickly. “I have... feelings for you.”

“Feelings” the silver-haired man said blandly, as if they were discussing field tactics. “Like the _’feelings’_ you have for Ms. Bryre?”

He cringed.

“No! ...Yes?” He sighed explosively. “Yes, those kind of feelings but also” his hand trembled on the table and he clenched it reflexively, aware of what had happened the last time he'd confessed something like this to someone else. “I...I care about you, more than I should. More than I _wanted_ to at first. I've always...reacted terribly to everything you do. It was jealousy-or so I told myself-but recently, I've begun to think it's because you're out of my league, always have been really. And now, now that I understand you a little bit more I want to be with you. As more than a friend” he clarified hurriedly. “But I know my track record precedes me. I'm nowhere close to celibate and I've slept with half of Shinra's major staff department.” He slumped. “Angeal told me not to push it….and now I've ruined a really great thing because I can't keep my fucking mouth shut.”

There was more silence and he wanted to melt through the floor. Or out the window. Through the floor and out the window. He waited for Sephiroth to get angry, to reject him, to simply _walk out if the room_ , but he didn't. He simply stood there and stared into his glass. Genesis-hysterically-thought that maybe he'd finally rendered him speechless with his idiocy. The irony did not escape him.

“I feel the same.”

In retrospect, he would have been less surprised if the man in front of him declared himself a casual tap-dancer. Even if Sephiroth did harbor feelings for him, he assumed the man would dismiss them in order to preserve his emotional integrity. The abruptness of the statement caught him off-guard and left him floundering in a sea of incredulity mixed with elation.

_”What?!”_

The General grimaced and knocked back what was either his fifth or twelfth glass of Vermouth.

“If you want me to say it a second time, I'm going to need to be extremely drunk.”

“No, no!” the redhead exclaimed, raising his hands in protest. “No. Just one word answers will do.” He paused to let the information sink in. “You...like me?”

Sephiroth’s cheeks held a very faint shade of roseate but he couldn't tell if it was a blush or how much he'd drunk at this point. He told himself it was the former.

“Yes.” The man appeared to grit his teeth before continuing. “I always have, but in context with what you’re asking, yes.”

Genesis tried very hard not to feel guilty about the fact that while he'd been loathing the pants off the man before him, he'd been genuinely trying to like him.

He failed.

“Okay” he muttered, trying to think through the haze that was turning his mind into a bowl of oatmeal. “So, where do we go from here?” He paused, redirected his thinking. “Where do _you_ want to go from here?”

The silver-haired man slid down the wall into a sitting position, his gaze fixed somewhere on the opposite side of the room.

“Do we...have sex?” Sephiroth's voice was strangled and tinged with something he couldn't quite identify.

Genesis let his head fall into his hands, shaking it as he did so.

“No...no. I don't think that's a good idea. I...I'm not looking for a fly-by-night here, Seph.” He swallowed and attempted to gather his thoughts. “Let's...come sit here, next to me. Close that thing up, I'm seeing three of you at this point.”

It was very much to his credit that the younger man was still considerably steady on his feet. He counted himself lucky that SOLDIERS could have mostly-coherent conversations up to the point of a blackout. Genesis was fairly sure he'd have collapsed if he wasn't sitting down. His task finished, the General slowly lowered himself onto the couch, drawing his knees up as he did so and clutching the glass closer, as if it was his only lifeline. The redhead realized-with a jolt of sincere horror-that the man didn't know about anything about courtship beyond basic human needs. It was a wonder he wasn't more nervous.

“We should date” Genesis said firmly. Sephiroth responded by looking confused. “You know, dinner and a movie.” When the man continued to look nonplussed he sighed. “Y’know how company policy encourages FIRSTS to spend time getting to know their squad before going out in the field?” This earned him a nod. “Okay, well people who want to be together spend time getting to know each other before they get into bed. Except they don't discuss how well they can snipe a moving target from sixty meters, they talk about their likes and dislikes...how they grew up and what their goals are for the future. Sort of like...commisherashoin.”

A silver brow was lifted in amusement.

“'Commisherashion?’”

Genesis rolled his eyes and waved a hand.

“You know what I mean.”

“I... understand the concept of what you're saying, yes. But I already know you very well.”

The blue-eyed man grinned.

“Oh? Then you know I occasionally put on stage makeup and recite poetry at Garters and Gorgon's?”

Sephiroth blinked.

“I didn't” he replied, apparently astounded. “What else don't I know?”

Genesis waved a chastising finger.

“Nope. No, this isn't a date. You're drunk, I'm _wasted_ , it doesn't count.” He folded his arms and smiled wickedly. “You have to _ask_ me first.”

A brief flicker of panic suffused those beautiful green eyes and he wondered if he might have pushed too hard. The the silver-haired man appeared to steel himself, turning to face him and hesitantly taking his hand.

“Genesis” he began with a seriousness that was almost heartbreaking. “Will you...will you accompany on a date?”

He put on the appearance of considering for the sake of the atmosphere, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

“Mmm, alright. I'm free two days from now, Lazard threatened to court-martial me if I didn't finish at least half of my paperwork by the weekend. Let's say...1900? We can't do it publicly” he smiled, a little sadly. “I'm sure you know that, the scandal would flatten us. But come down to mine and we'll have dinner.” The fact that Sephiroth could appear sincerely grateful for his acceptance made him feel like he was taking gross advantage of the situation. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes.” The certainty in the younger man's tone brokered no questions. His expression morphed into that of discomfort as he opened his mouth to speak again. “You should know that...Hojo, he saw...a mark you left on my neck.” Genesis paled and the man hurried on. “To punish me he... insisted on performing a full physical, including-” the man shuddered. “-All relevant orifices.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “He was not...gentle, and he made sure that it lasted almost two hours.”

Genesis nearly threw up.

“That’s... that's assault” he rasped when he finally found his voice.

A bitter laugh was the initial reply.

“There's nothing I-nothing _anyone_ -can do about it. He's done it before, but it had been a while and I reacted poorly. It's my fault-”

“It's _not_ your fault” the redhead said fiercely, wanting to grab the man by his shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled. He felt terrible, horrible for being so careless. He should have been more mindful of what he was doing. “I have to ask” he said weakly “Because I don't really know....What….what do you even _see_ in me?”

Sephiroth's expression was utterly solemn.

“Everything.”

Translation: _”I would never endure what I did for someone I didn't cherish.”_

Genesis exhaled shakily.

“...Oh.”

Long, strong and slender fingers curled under his jaw, tilting his head up and drawing him close.

“I'm going to kiss you now” was the soft exhalation as a warm mouth brushed against his own.

“Okay” the redhead murmured breathlessly, his right hand tangling in seemingly endless strands of silver hair as it fell over his face. As terribly inexperienced as the younger man was at romance, he was awfully, unfairly _good_ at it.

He inhaled sharply as their lips met, the taste of the Vermouth and something else, something distinctly Sephiroth bursting on his tongue. The man kissed with his eyes closed. Genesis reflected on that dimly as he lifted his free hand to grip leather lapels, fabric sliding against his palms as he gave himself to the gesture. He'd never been good at letting go, at opening himself to every sensation that came with reciprocation, but as he let his own lids slide shut he realized that in this, _for_ this, he could. There was no need to keep his guard up, to watch carefully for any sign that the situation wasn't going his way. It was exhilarating and freeing. The rasp of clothing rustling as they sank into each other wasn't a preherald to his partner reaching for a dagger, and the soft stroke of a thumb against his pulse-point wasn't a surreptitious check for his jugular. It was affection, and while it scared him a little bit, it was also incomprehensibly soothing.

Soon he was leaning forward to trace the seam of trembling lips with his tongue, suppressing a moan as he was admitted entry. Sephiroth didn't seem to know what to do with the gesture at first, but when a tentative suck earned him a strangled groan he responded with equal fervor. It was a sharp contrast to their usual altercations; less fight and more tangence...the stutter of breath...the whisper of fingers against skin. Instead of blood there was temperate warmth, strength...but only for the gradual rise of emotion. Genesis shivered as Sephiroth caught the ornament dangling from his ear between his teeth and tugged gently, he himself stiffening as the redhead nipped teasingly at his lower lip.

When he was sure he couldn't take anymore without pushing any boundaries, Genesis pulled away, catching his breath as he let his forehead settle on the younger man's shoulder. A tentative hand came up to card through the hair at the base of his neck and he sighed.

“Damn you, Sephiroth.”

A soft chuckle, weak at the edges of arousal, was his only reply...as if to echo the sentiment.

He found that it meant more than anything he'd ever heard before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I am going to try to take a break after this. I'm on a sort of juggernaut kick where once I start it's hard to stop because the plot is just doing this deranged sort of verbal loop in my head if I don't get it out right away. The downside to this is that I always notice a downslope in the quality of my writing. I am dissatisfied with 3/4 of this chapter. I need to stop before I crash, which is something I don't want to do. 
> 
> I will also be taking a break in April for Camp NanoWriMo. 
> 
> Thank you for reading
> 
> **R &R**


	12. Chapter 12

“Wutai is getting out of control, we must act quickly in order to maintain stability.”

Sitting in a conference room filled to the brim with high-ranking officials, Sephiroth reflected he’d never been this adverse to the idea of going on a mission. To his left, Lazard was looking typically straight-laced; his expression a mask of seriousness as he addressed the group of people in front of them. To his right, Genesis’ presence was a soft warmth, their elbows brushing beneath the table as various shareholders debated the pros and cons of the proposal laid before them. It was fairly straightforward; attempt damage control, gather information, eliminate further resistance. What was _not_ straightforward was the fact that Wutai was its own country with a decent-sized army and a deep, insidious hatred for Shinra and everything it represented. Glaring at the group of battle-ignorant bluebloods before him, Sephiroth grudgingly admitted that they were possibly the worst candidates for a War Council he'd ever laid eyes on. Still, Shinra had to pander in order to maintain its deep pockets, and while he was starting to think that there was nothing about the company that appealed to him anymore, it wasn't like he could ‘hand in his badge’ and walk out the door.

“It should be noted that we have no previous clearance with Wutai” Heidegger spoke up, his brows furrowed. “Godo Kisaragi has made his opinions of Shinra’s influence very clear. Moreover, even if we did manage to kill him, the populace is of equal mind. They won't be swayed easily, if at all. We've fought on their turf before, but I'm sure even General Sephiroth could tell you that any ground we manage to cover will be swiftly dismantled unless we can guarantee a constant military presence on the continent. One that is large enough to discourage any form of resistance.”

“Wutai also has the favor of the Summoners” Genesis supplied, leaning back in his chair and placing a leather-clad hand flat on the table. “While they've remained neutral in the majority of our skirmishes, there's no guarantee they'll stay that way if it appears we’re making significant headway.” Blue eyes narrowed. “Our men are not ready to face the wrath of a High Summoner.”

“Legends” a rotund man across the table scoffed, wiping sweaty brows. “Myths told to children to keep them in line. There haven't been any reports of a Summoner anywhere on Gaia for centuries, and the reports we do have are vague at best “

“Are we willing to take that risk?” Sephiroth murmured. He tried not to roll his eyes as all of the attention in the room focused on him. “Tell me, do you think our troops could withstand the might of a fully-grown Aeon?” He leaned forward and and fixed his gaze on the fat man who'd spoken. “Have you _heard_ of the things they were capable of?”

“We're getting off topic” Lazard cut in smoothly, shooting the General a somewhat chastising look. “The main point of concern is whether it is worth continuing what has proven to be a bloody, lengthy war for the sake of a single reactor.”

“That reactor will turn significant profit” the President barked from the head of the table. “And I'm surprised at the two of you” he added, glaring at the two FIRSTS. “Usually you're...eager to extend the company's reach.”

“I've been to Wutai” Sephiroth said, pushing down his impatience with the whole affair. “I’ve lost scores of good men there, for a very small cause” he added blithely. “While I am fully supportive of Shinra's operative, I am not so careless as to jump into an endeavor that seems to be based on nothing but monetary gain.” He tilted his head. “Do we intend to aid the people of Wutai like we did those in the Grasslands?”

“If they cooperate” was the dark response.

“We know that’s unlikely” Heidegger supplied. “Which is why if we _do_ push forward we must resign ourselves to permanent military residence. This will thin our sources elsewhere, in places that are already precarious.”

“You're going to have to earn the public’s support in order to go into this wholeheartedly” Genesis added, twirling a pen between his fingers. “It's their taxes that go into the war effort, and while the majority of our funds come from our shareholders-” he nodded at the men across the table. “-Shinra is reluctant to use but a small portion of those funds for military purpose, the greater amount of financial support in regards to defense and expansion comes from the populace.”

“Which is where you come in” Lazard said dryly. “It will be the task of the FIRSTs to wrangle moral from the people. Particularly you, Commander. You've already proven to have a...flair for it.”

“What is our chronological trajectory?” Sephiroth queried, resigning himself to the inevitably if yet another war.

“You’ll want to start with a smear campaign” Reeve replied, having remained mostly silent until then. “Highlight the sacrifices of the SOLDIERS who have already died fighting against Wutai, make them seem dangerous if ignored. It's fairly straightforward.”

“Once we've garnered the majority of the public's support, we can start making plans to attack, but that will come later” Lazard said dismissively. “Right now we need to concentrate on the press, on how we articulate our intentions.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Genesis pressed. “Is it really worth it? We'll be killing a lot of people simply because they don't support the company. No matter how pretty you make it look on paper, that's the truth of it.”

 _”We_ won't be killing anyone” the President drawled, a bored look on his face. “We will be here, at HQ, while you and the General do as you've been told.”

“Keep in mind that we’re only an extension of your will” Sephiroth said sharply, his lip curling before he could stop the knee-jerk reaction.

“That's enough, from both of you” Lazard snapped. His expression was incredulous, shaken even. “I want the two of you in my office after this meeting. Obviously you need to be reminded of what the privileges of your rank entails.”

“Noted” Genesis said airily.

Sephiroth kicked him under the table.

“Are we all in agreement?” The President growled. “Well...those of us whose opinion is relevant in this decision” he added, shooting a sideways glance at the two FIRSTS.

There was a chorus of assent and Tseng reached over Lazard’s shoulder to switch off the tape recorder that was lying in the center of the table.

“We will reconvene to discuss public distribution of the agreement tomorrow. Our next topic of interest is the status of Reactor 2” the aforementioned man droned. “You both are dismissed” he added, nodding at Genesis and Sephiroth. “I will email you at my convenience to discuss your... infraction. Thank you for your time.”

‘“Sir”’ they chorused, standing in unison.

When the door to the Conference Room had slid shut, Genesis shot him a cheeky grin, leather-clad fingers squeezing his for a moment before letting go as they began the trek back to their respective offices.

“Isn't it grand to be on the same page?”

Sephiroth 'hmmed’, pulling out his comm and checking his inbox. There were two emails regarding the previous briefing and one from Financial that looked long and mildly fearsome. Scoffing inwardly, he configured a notification regarding it for the afternoon and stared mulishly ahead. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough to do. He'd been swamped in paperwork since they’d returned two weeks before. Shinra's administrative staff had evidently decided that an unofficial vacation was well and due in terms of bookwork, which in turn meant that the rest of the departments and overseeing SOLDIER heads got to take on their responsibilities. Besides paperwork, Sephiroth had the responsibility to ensure the productivity of SOLDIERs-in-training, the functionality of all military branches and heads of said branches along with his (i.e. everyone but Lazard), speeches for promoted foot soldiers to 1sts and 1sts to seconds, press accommodation, and the occasional inventory of their armories. This left him little time for leisure, and while he might not have cared about that before the whole Sleeping Forest (‘SF’, as Genesis called it; _”short for Shitty Fiasco”_ ), he did to some degree now.

Sparing a glance for the man next to him, the General acknowledged that he enjoyed their time together. The morning after they'd agreed to attempt Genesis’ suggestion of 'dating’, he'd woken up to the sun spilling into the room and the words, _'do you still want this?’_ scrawled on a sticky note atop his bedside table. It had taken him a while to come to terms with it, not because he didn't want it, but because he didn't like to solidify decisions made over copious amounts of alcohol unless he was absolutely positive. He'd considered the situation over breakfast, which he ate alone, and he spent most of the day sequestered in his office. Genesis didn't call him-something for which he was extremely grateful-and it gave him time to think over his response. It spoke volumes to the redhead’s level of dedication that he didn't come crashing through the door. When he'd arrived at his apartment at 2230 he was waiting, a hopeful yet carefully controlled expression on his face. Sephiroth had looked him over carefully, committing the moment to memory before uttering a low _'yes’_.

It was like the Dumbapple Festival came early.

They'd parted ways soon after, both being too busy to bask in the solidification of their commitment. Neither of them saw much of the other for the next two days, though they did text back and forth, along with a plethora of sticky notes taped under desks and onto chairs during precious moments of free time. Genesis’ responsibilities were more judicial than his; involving disciplinary hearings for SOLDIERS who made errors in the field that couldn't be dismissed, or hardheaded recruits who thought they could do something above their skill or rank level. The redhead had expressly forbid his fellow FIRSTS from attending such hearings due to the fact that he had to be unscrupulously serious, and couldn't quite manage it among friends who'd bore witness to the kind of mischief he'd gotten himself into as a trainee.

Sephiroth was glad to leave him to it. Events that led him to the courtroom usually leaned towards Capital Punishment, and while he agreed with justice he didn't like the idea of sending people off to some dark room for a lethal injection. He'd briefly entertained the idea of showing up at a low-level infraction hearing, he emailed said idea to Genesis sometime during their second day apart. In turn, he received a long and sufficiently entertaining reply making it very clear that in no way, shape, or form was he to do this, lest he witness a lineup of recruits spontaneously soil themselves.  
The weekend was a brief repast from the whirlwind that surrounded them. Sephiroth had arrived at the Commander’s apartment at their agreed time, and they'd enjoyed a modest dinner together. The sociability of it was foreign to him; the need to participate in a conversation to move forward. Genesis seemed to understand, but he made sure to put him in a place where he still had to respond to questions and suppositions rather than taking a backseat to his everyday chatter. A _listening_ Genesis was also new, but he found that he felt included rather than put on the spot. When their meal was finished, they'd moved to the couch to watch an old pre-recorded theatre reel. He was genuinely interested in it until a hand was placed on his thigh. Then, to his sincere horror, his mind went South-as some would say-faster than he could draw Masamune.

Thirty minutes of complete and utter torture ensued.

Genesis was already close when they'd begun the viewing, but fifteen minutes in and he’d laid his head on his shoulder in a way that made his breath tickle his neck just-so. Then the leg to the far right of him lifted up to cross over the left, leaving their knees pressed together as an idle foot tapped against his shin. The hand not grasping his thigh tangled in a length of hair that had fallen between them, rubbing strands between forefinger and thumb until the younger man was absolutely sure he was going to go completely insane or blind...one or the other. Insanity seemed much more prevalent.

Twenty four minutes and he’d idly wondered if he was going cross-eyed. The hand on his thigh was rubbing small, idle circles that were sending warm, shivering drumbeats of heat up his spine; making his eyes feel heavy and his head even more so. A temperance that had nothing to do with external environment was slowly blooming in his extremities; oversensitivity making it even more prevalent. He caught himself biting his lips, which were suddenly flushed; dry before a mouth that was abruptly irriguous. The silver-haired man was desperately wondering if he'd forgotten his suppressants when a low chuckle nearly forced an entirely inchoate sound from him. He held it back through sheer force of will before tilting his head down to catch sapphire irises that were _burning_.

 _“Look at you”_ Genesis had purred, cupping his cheek. Sephiroth’s breath seemed ragged and distant in his ears as he tried and failed to form an articulate response. Another soft laugh was his reward and he'd squeezed his eyes shut in humiliation. A quiet 'tsk’ reached his ears and he forced them open again to find the red-headed SOLDIER hovering just before his mouth. _“You idiot”_ was the hoarse murmur against his lips. _“The movie's just for show.”_

And so it was that every few days he found himself getting virtually devoured...or devouring, the schematics of it escape him when he was reduced to what amounted to a puddle of incoherency. Likewise, he didn't particularly consider dynamics when Genesis was letting out throaty moans and melting under his kisses. It didn't take him long to figure out the mechanics of 'making out’, and once he'd mastered that he was eager to find out more. Unfortunately, their schedules didn't allow for it. Sephiroth wasn't confident enough to take things into his own hands; and-frankly-he wouldn't have known how to even if he was. Genesis in turn was reluctant to move quickly, his reasoning convoluted...but at the same time understandable.

 _“I’m not used to dealing with...virgins”_ he'd muttered one night, his head resting in Sephiroth's lap. He'd grimaced. _“Not that it's a bad thing, I just always avoided it. First-timers tend to...have strong emotional attachments to those who provide them with the experience, particularly if the giver is experienced, like me. I never wanted that 'till now.”_ He huffed lightly and trailed idle fingertips across Sephiroth's knuckles. _“Now that I've committed to this... I'm not sure how to approach it.”_

Which was alright, if he was perfectly honest with himself.

In the heat of the moment-the _many_ moments-Sephiroth wanted more, but it was a physical response. His mentality was nervous, saturated with two decades of virulent reminders of the fact that it was forbidden, but with no clear answer as to why. He knew the basic gestures of copulation, but he also knew that the social aspect outweighed base instinct up until and often past penetration. He would need to be able to give mentally in a way he didn't know if he could, and while he was willing to learn about it, he was truly concerned about how well his learning curve would be tolerated.

“I'm going to need your help.”

Genesis’ voice brought him up and out of his mental commiserations. They were standing at an interdepartmental cross-section, one that would lead them towards Administration, and the other to the elevators down to Archives. Sephiroth raised a silvery brow.

“...Now?”

The redhead huffed.

“I've...been down several times to see...to see _her_.”

“You said it was in the clear” he replied dryly. “That the access codes were in your cell phone.”

“They are” the Commander sighed, pulling out the device. “And I'd have our records already if I had clearance to run those codes.”

The younger man frowned.

“SOLDIER records aren't beyond Standard Archival clearance.”

“ _Most_ SOLDIERS” Genesis agreed darkly. “We have filing cabinets there, but they're empty. There's a laminated memo in each of them that says _'classified’_ in giant black lettering.”

“Angeal as well?” he pressed.

“Yeah.” The blue-eyed man seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I...found something else. Mostly because I checked the whole room.” At Sephiroth's withering look he raised his hands in protest. “It was late and I'm a glutton for punishment! There’s a name in the Scientific Division I don't recognize, a _Lucrecia Crescent_ , does it ring a bell?”

For a moment, something soft seemed to wedge itself in the back of his throat; like the soft flutter of a butterfly’s wing. An odd ache appeared in his chest, painful yet sweet...a moment later and it was gone. Genesis was looking at him warily, one hand outstretched as if to take his arm but he swallowed and shook his head.

“It...it doesn't” he said quietly. “What was strange about it?”

“She's like...a huge deal” the redhead breathed, retracting his hand and scratching his head. “Clearance levels above Hollander's even, but she's listed as 'd.’”

“Deceased” the General said grimly. “It doesn't particularly surprise me. If she was as brilliant as you say, Hojo would have used her for whatever purpose she was assigned to and disposed of her. He wouldn't want to risk being outshone.”

“True” Genesis murmured. “But...it doesn't say how she died or where. Nothing like your usual cover-up. No 'accident’ or anything…”

“It's not what we’re looking for” Sephiroth replied carefully, tilting his head.

“No” was the exasperated exhalation. “But it bothers me, and I don't know why.”

The sound of footsteps heralded the approach of a solo patrol, and Genesis made a show of fiddling with his comm while Sephiroth turned to a digital display case that hosted departmental notices and staff rotation. The SOLDIER in question gave them a bewildered look when he came into view but didn't ask any questions. If anything, the speed of his steps increased significantly until he'd disappeared from view.

“Am I really that terrifying?” the General mused, staring after him with a wry expression.

Genesis snorted.

“Ah...no. That might have been me actually” he admitted, lifting a gloved hand to scratch his head. “I made a guest appearance during a squad training session and he nearly fell over his sword. Needless to say, I shouted for a while.” He shot Sephiroth a sideways glance. “Though I will say your presence isn't exactly what I'd call _'relieving’_. Not unless you're on a rescue mission. Though half the people I've talked to say you make it feel like they got lost in the grocery store and their mother called a very exasperated Great Dane with a sword and a Messianic Complex. Said Great Dane then proceeded to kill all the isle clerks, cash register attendants, and managers en route, because fuck all he's a busy boy and this was a pain in the ass.”

The image the comment brought to the forefront of his mind was so absurd he dismissed it immediately.

“You need me to get to the High Security section of the Archives” he said flatly, returning to the original topic of conversation.

“Yeah” Genesis replied, fiddling with his vambrace for a moment before flicking a small grey sphere at the camera above them. “Stasis materia” he added, nodding at the initial trajectory. “Plays a time loop for about thirty minutes. Doesn't give us a lot of breathing room but we know what we’re looking for.” The redhead turned and began walking towards the elevator, gesturing for Sephiroth to follow. “The good thing about weekends is that security is lax and the Archives are employee-free. Just the occasional patrol.” He nodded in the direction the lone SOLDIER had taken. “That one to be exact, he won't be down for another forty minutes.”

“We don't know if there will be additional security measures in place” the silver-haired man cautioned as they reached the lift. “And I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Breaking the rules is _always_ a bad idea when it comes to you” Genesis huffed as the lift doors closed. “If we start running thin on time I'll send you up to head off the patrol and set another Stasis.” A scarlet eyebrow arced as Sephiroth opened his mouth to protest. “It's basic charm work, there's just not a lot of call for it in the field. You activate it and the materia does the rest.”

A leather-clad hand beckoned for his access card and he handed it over with no small amount of trepidation. Sliding it into the designated inset, Genesis ripped back a panel and fiddled with the wiring; stepping back and exhaling as the light above it turned green.

“That's was easy” he remarked. “Now we just have to find the files.”

There was a soft chime as the elevator doors slid open, and they both stepped out into a faintly lit antechamber. Sephiroth frowned as he observed the space before them. For all the fuss made in regards to the Archives, it wasn't that impressive. Technologically, it was high-standard, with massive holographic screens behind huge black visual shields. Six of them took up the back wall behind the receiving area where a small security desk was set up, now vacant. The doors to the main floor were much like those in the Science Division; they were glass but the lettering was black instead of white. The walls were a dull grey that didn't seem to reflect light, an eerie backdrop to the purplish-blue color that came from the holoprojectors. There were four desks to the left and right of the entrance, all of decent size and obviously personalized according to employee preference. A miniature chocobo sat atop a green monitor with the Shinra logo floating across it at one, and a coffee cup with _'The Six Stages of Coding’_ across it in garish red lettering sat at another.

Striding into the confined space, the General looked at the desks contemplatively. It was strange to think of the people working in such high levels of security as 'normal’. You had to give up a lot of things to gain clearance like that in Shinra...but it didn't erase humanity entirely.

“We're here.”

The hollowness in Genesis’ voice was startling, and Sephiroth looked over to see that the redhead was ghostly pale, his fingers gripping the edge of the projector so tightly the knuckles were white. Abandoning his ruminations over the strangeness of the staff, he closed the distance between them and focused his gaze on the suspended images. There was a picture of an adult Genesis-as he was now-and a blue-eyed, red-haired infant that was indeed rather chubby but he put that aside to focus on the text.

“Genesis Rhapsodos” he said quietly. “Otherwise...otherwise known as _’Project G.(2)’_ ” He hesitated, thrown off balance, and glanced at the man in question.

“Keep going” the was the response through gritted teeth.

“‘J cells administered at four months gestation... successful permutation and suffusion. Born August 11 at thirty eight weeks, six days, 2322pm. Birth weight; seven pounds zero ounces, monitored for eight months until parents refused further scrutiny. Parents: Professor Gast Faremis (m)(d), and Ilfana (*)(f)(d). Siblings: 1 (f)(TD). Adopted by Rhapsodos family at two years of age, post death of Dr. Gast. Subject shows considerable promise in the field and shows no signs of adverse developmental effects, despite assertions of 'failure.' Assigned physician is Dr. Hollander...Genesis-” Sephiroth broke off and grasped the redhead's hand, pulling him until he lost his grip on the projector. The older man stumbled, a blank look on his face.

“Who am I?” Genesis whispered.

“You're…” he searched frantically for the correct word, the _gentlest_ word. At the same time he acknowledged that he was the worst person to deal with this type of situation. “You're adopted” he replied, then hastened to continue as he was given a murderous look. “But you're still you...it doesn't change who you are.”

“I'm not my parents’ kid” was the low response. “I've-I’ve heard of Gast, he was head of the Scientific Division before Hojo was.” There was a long silence. “I have a sister, did you see that?”

“I did” Sephiroth said quietly. “That's... something to be happy about, isn't it?”

The man before him refused to meet his eyes, and he realized it was because he was struggling not to explode into rage or break into pieces.

“I don't know.”

“I understand.”

 _That_ caught Genesis’ attention. Blue eyes flashed as they met his, suffused with rage, grief, and something more... something unstable and destructive.

“Do you?” was the cold reply. “Let's look at your file, shall we?”

Fighting down the instinctive reaction to fight-because Genesis was hurt, _really_ hurt, and extremely confused-, Sephiroth nodded. Turning back to the projector, the older man punched in commands with a kind of mindless savagery. The display sputtered for a moment before throwing up a massive wall of text framed on either side by two images; one of Sephiroth as an infant, and one of him as an adult. He was-he observed dryly-a rather standard baby, a bit large but otherwise unremarkable.

“Sephiroth” Genesis began. “Otherwise known as _‘Project S(1)’._ J cells injected at 1.1 months gestation. Born in December to-” he faltered and the General raised an eyebrow for him to continue. “-To Dr. Lucrecia Crescent(f)(d) and Professor...Professor M. Hojo(m) at 42 weeks and three days. Conditioning begun at...at two years and six months...signed over to Shinra Corporation at three years and seven months- _fuck!”_

The display flickered off as the Commander slumped to the floor, his hands covering his face. Sephiroth-for his part-couldn’t really find the motivation to move. He knew they needed to look at Angeal's file, but he couldn't muster up the drive to do so. He’d...had a mother, one whose name was entirely different from what Hojo had told him.

“Project J” he said tonelessly. “Jenova?”

“Fuck if I know!” Genesis snapped, and he flinched away instinctively. At his response, the man seemed to relent. “Goddess, I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm snapping at you...you might be the only one who can relate to me with this and I'm just-” he shuddered. “I should check Angeal's file.”

Sephiroth clenched his hands into fists, swallowing convulsively.

“I...I don't want to know” he said lowly. Blue eyes met green and he felt a flush of shame suffuse his skin. “I'm sorry, I just can't handle anymore today, not with what I know about H-” he broke off, his breath a soft hiss through his teeth.

Genesis inhaled sharply, scrambling up to close the gap between them. The silver-haired man tried to flinch away as warm palms were placed on either shoulder, but he couldn't.

“He was your father, but he still did those things to you” Genesis murmured, cupping his face with both hands. “I... I can't _imagine_ -”

He broke off when Sephiroth yanked himself away and took a step back, turning away and motioning for him to get on with it. For whatever reason, the redhead seemed to understand his need for space and didn't pursue him. The faint hum of the projector started up again and he made a point of checking the time. To his sincere horror, they were nearly ten minutes overdue. Whipping around to inform Genesis of the fact, he was greeted with the sight of his fellow SOLDIER unsheathing Rapier and glaring at the holodisplay like he was about to murder it and all of its offspring. At the same time a klaxon horn began to blare as circular intrusion lights flared to life and began to swirl scarlet around them. There was a crash from behind the wall where the projectors were and the redhead seemed to come to his senses, sheathing his blade and grabbing Sephiroth's hand to sprint to the lift, cursing the entire way.

They were nearly bowled over by a duo of overeager THIRDS in the hallway, but Masamune’s hilt resolved the issue. As the two recruits dropped like chocobos in the middle of the ocean, Genesis mashed the elevator button as Sephiroth readied an Obscure materia. He didn't like to use them, they were finicky at best, but being caught was not an option here, not with what they'd uncovered. Genesis would be exiled for it, and he'd be 'put down’ like a dog. A pair of steel doors slammed open as the lift arrived at their level and the General stumbled as he was practically yanked inside while the Commander dismantled yet another panel and began yanking out wires like they were going out of style.

“Halt!!”

The exclamation came on the heels of what sounded like fifty troopers and Sephiroth was grateful for the low lighting as the lift doors slammed shut. He tossed the redhead his key card and pinched the bridge of his nose. The elevator shuddered-began to rise-then groaned and came to a halt again.

 _“Shit!”_ Genesis slammed a palm against the steel-plated interior, one hand grasping a pair of conductors that were smoking in his palm. The other he cradled against his chest, the dermis black but rapidly regaining pigment. “They've frozen the controls” he gasped. “Nearly fucking fried me. We're trapped-”

“-We’re not” the younger man growled, tilting his head and glaring upwards. After a moment, he shed his coat and wrapped it around Masamune's blade, taking it between two hands and ramming the hilt into ceiling. There was a screeching sound as a metal plate gave way, presenting a space large enough for a single man to make an exit. Taking the initiative, Sephiroth leapt through and held out a hand for Genesis; the man hesitated only briefly before accepting it and hauling himself up next to him. “We’ll have to climb” the General continued grimly. “I hope those gloves are new.”

“Of course” the blue-eyed man scoffed, grasping a cable and tugging experimentally. He sobered as he looked at the endless expanse above them. “Do you know how to navigate the lift shafts?”

Sephiroth tugged his coat back on and sheathed Masamune before answering.

“Of course I do.”

He watched as Genesis nodded and closed his eyes.

“Of course you do.”

Knowing the layout was-of course-completely different than navigating it. There were places that only a child could fit through, ongoing elevator construction to new parts of the building, and-of course-active lifts themselves. Twice they were nearly flattened by a descending compartment and the one time they were caught on the opposite side they had to make a jump for another shaft mid-lift. This didn't account for the dozens of SOLDIERs and other security personnel trying to _find_ them who had descended into the shafts as well. Genesis seemed to be taking a kind of savage delight in hindering them in any way possible-particularly the Turks-and Sephiroth found he couldn't really blame him. He found a quiet sort of satisfaction in seeing a black-suited agent wander aimlessly over the edge of a maintenance platform only to be caught at the very last second by one of their comrades. Materia were occasionally amusing.

To maintain their cover, they had to exit the shafts at sublevel again; into an air intake vent that would lead them upwards and out, onto a relatively private exterior seating area outside of Administration. This would coincide with the feed 'malfunction’ that left them standing in the hallway; making it seem as if they'd simply walked through the offices and onto the staff balcony. When they arrived the area was empty, and there were no relevant indicators that anyone had been there in the last two hours. Dusting themselves off perfunctorily, the two men exchanged harried looks before sinking into the two chairs available to them. Taking a moment to gather his bearings, Sephiroth gazed out onto the expanse that was Midgar and found himself feeling singularly bereft.

It was different now. In some ways he could understand why such a secret was kept from him for so long. After a certain point, the truth became more damaging than the lie. His mother-his _real_ mother-was dead, and his father was the man who had single handedly turned him into an obedient cog in a well-oiled machine. Hojo had walked into the lab fully aware that he was torturing his son every time...and he'd continued to do it. There was a dull ache deep in his chest, one that he usually ignored but found that he could now understand. The ache wasn't that of not knowing who he was...it was the singular, terrible knowledge that the man who sired him didn't love him; the pain of abandonment on a mental scale if not a physical. He could see the resemblance now...a little bit. The eyebrows, the mouth, the aeonian features; it was all there. It also explained his reluctance to fight back. As much as he'd like to tell himself otherwise, Sephiroth was not a robot. He identified with people on a social level very poorly, with a low tolerance for idiocy or cruelty, but he'd always tolerated Hojo. His ability to be lukewarm in the face of so much tyranny was clearer...but it didn't make it better.

“I'm never going to meet them.”

Genesis’ voice was hoarse from so much time spent in the dusty shafts. Sephiroth felt something in his chest twist as he observed the man before him. With his head bent, his eyes gazing at the ground; his posture was a direct opposition to his usual spirit. Exhaling, Sephiroth slowly took the glove off of his left hand, laying his knuckles flat on the table in a gesture of offering. Slowly, that familiar mop of red lifted, revealing dull sapphire irises...suffused with grief.

“I'm sorry” the younger man said quietly.

Something softened in that azure gaze, something that wanted to be hard and bitter but couldn't be...not to him. Slender fingers inched along his Fate line before joining their palms together; digits entwining until it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended.

“I'm sorry too.”

For a few, brief minutes they were alone in their shared grief. It was a precious time space, occupied by only the two of them. Communal yet solitary in a sense of shared duality. One couldn't particularly put a value to it. ...Just an unnameable, gravid feeling that went beyond words. That suspended moment ended when the door to the balcony slammed open, revealing Angeal. The other two men yanked their hands back, though Genesis seemed more reluctant to do so. The gesture didn't escape the dark-haired FIRST, but he seemed to angry to bring any attention to it.

“Where have the two of you been?!”

Sephiroth blinked and turned his head to raise an eyebrow at Genesis, who was looking at Angeal like he was something he both wanted to hug, and run away from while screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Here” the General drawled. “Discussing this Wutai rubbish.”

“Well while you were busy _whining_ about a mission that isn't going to launch for _weeks_ -if it does at all-someone broke into the High-Security Archives!”

By this time, Genesis appeared to have recovered himself.

“Was anything stolen?” he queried breezily, picking his nails.

Angeal appeared to falter.

“Well-no-but-”

“-Then it's not our problem” Sephiroth interjected. “And even if they did, it's a Turk problem first and foremost.”

Their fellow SOLDIER was looking like he wanted to throw them over the bannister.

“Look” he said flatly. “I get that you both have a lot on your minds.” Genesis snorted and he shot him a homicidal look. “But please take into consideration the fact that I know _nothing_ about the circumstances. That being said, just because you're both feeling the ‘teenage angst’ era of your lives all over again does not give you an excuse to be shitty to your comrades _or_ to dismiss duties you see as beneath you. Lazard has ordered us in on this, I wouldn't ask you if he hadn't. The perp-or perps-didn’t steal anything but they gained access to vital files and spent a considerable amount of time gathering information from them”

“And what were the contents of those files?”

Angeal raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

“Classified” he said dryly. “Administrative clearance, not our concern but we're on the clock and you know what that entails.”

“I do” Genesis sighed, rising and placing his hands flat on the table. “Well then, shall we 'protect and serve’, General?”

Despite the terrible truths they had faced barely an hour before, Sephiroth felt his lips curve into a tentative smile.

“Yes Commander” he purred. “I suppose we shall.”

This was-like their earlier situation-easier said than accomplished.

It was hours before they were cleared to leave. They spent the rest of the afternoon retracing steps they'd taken before, though it seemed that their tail had been lost once they descended into the sublevels again. The perpetrators-predictably-were not caught, and Sephiroth didn't think he'd ever seen Lazard look hysterical before, but now he had. It was assumed that 'whoever’ had done it had escaped into the sewers and was long gone. Angeal was his usual taciturn self, if a bit tired, and he bid them a weary goodnight. The SOLDIERS assigned to accompany them trailed back to their barracks looking somewhat punch-drunk, and it gave Sephiroth the opportunity to offer Genesis dinner at his apartment.

Despite the fact that it was 2230, the man agreed and they made the long trek back to the President's floor feeling accomplished and bereft at the same time. They didn't end up eating anything at all. Each of them took turns in the shower, and by the time Genesis was done Sephiroth had crawled into bed and left a note on the coffee table in the living room apologizing and inviting him to use the couch as recompense. When the bed dipped he was half asleep, his mentally and physically exhausted state of existence not allowing him to care at all.

* * *

When he awoke again it was 0430 and he was holding another body. His first response was alarm, because he'd been trained to kill anyone who got so close to him while he was unconscious. As the mako in his eyes adjusted, he was rewarded with the sight of Genesis nestled into his side, utterly lost to sleep. Strands of scarlet hair spilled across alabaster features slack with exhaustion, and the chest that rose and fell under his palm was smooth but muscular, elegant but strong in a way that was uniquely his. Fingers, deceptive in their slenderness, gripped the soft down of a pillow; calloused and careworn with a red hue at the joints that was common with SOLDIERs that wielded a sword. Red lashes framed eyelids that were so pale he could see the criss-cross of bluish veins beneath them; strong brows arched in a somnolent frown that twisted lips he was all-too familiar with. There was a necklace he didn't recognize looped around the man’s neck; black hide thread with a single bead at the hollow of his throat...white with a small apple in the middle of it.

Even as his arousal grew, the enormity of what Genesis had lost kept him from pulling him out of sleep. Everything he knew... everything he'd surrounded himself in as a child was an illusion. Sephiroth had had no such illusions. His childhood had always been cruel, and he hadn't expected any revelations about his origins to be kinder. If anything, it solidified his perspective of being different...of his absurdity in a world of people who didn't-couldn’t-understand him. Genesis sighed and he startled-watched-as the man arched his back slightly before settling into him again with a low grumble. Slits of glowing sapphire focused on him before disappearing behind milky lids, a mumbled exhalation that sounded like his name spilling from cerise lips before silence fell once again. Swallowing, the silver-haired man tried to relax, letting his head fall back onto his pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

It wasn't like they were naked. Genesis was dressed in what felt like silk pajama pants and a loose cotton t-shirt, and he himself was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants he'd pulled on after getting out of the shower. He hadn't done it so much out of need for warmth as for propriety...and if he was really feeling honest, he wasn't entirely comfortable with being naked while having someone over, even if it was someone he was currently in a relationship with. Sephiroth frowned and pulled an errant strand of silver hair away from his face. Was this a relationship? They'd agreed to date, but he didn't know if that automatically equated ‘togetherness’...or even fidelity. He cringed at the thought of his friend continuing his usual liaisons as was normal while he airheadedly assumed they were in a committed partnership. It was the kind of extraneous assumption he would make, and the idea of it was unattractive. Still, if they weren't together, there was absolutely no reason Genesis should be hogging his duvet.

“Goddess, you think loud.”

Genesis’ voice was heavy with sleep as he stretched languidly before rolling to face him, an indulgent smile tugging at his mouth. A warm palm travelled up Sephiroth's side and he shivered involuntary.

“Do you normally invade people's beds?” he asked dryly.

A throaty chuckle rose between them.

“Mmm…” the blue-eyed man sighed, inching closer and burying his nose in the crook of his neck. “Only if I have very good reason to.”

“I didn't mean to wake you.”

Genesis groaned.

“First you want to know why I'm in your bed and now you're apologizing for waking me up, make up your mind.”

He opened his mouth to say something else-to apologise again more than likely-but lost all semblance of thought as hot lips closed over his pulse-point and _sucked_. All vital blood in his head appeared to rush downwards-which really, was scientifically impossible-coalescing in his nether regions to create an ache that in turn spread to the rest of his body. His hand came up to thread through strands of fiery hair as he arched his neck, the other hand gripping the sheet covering them involuntarily. Before Sephiroth had time to fixate on the sensation, Genesis’ focus was subverted and he was drawn into a deep kiss.

Somehow it was different.

The fluid warmth of a dextrous tongue he knew; knew how to respond to it as it tangled with his before retreating so the redhead could nibble at his lower lip before sealing their mouths together once more. He knew the tangible thrust and retreat of the exchange, the soft musk of arousal as it rose around them...and the way those opaline cheeks darkened with each pass. Still, it was different. The hand on his side moved with the rhythm of Genesis’ lips, and the kiss was longer...hungrier and deeper. Each stroke of his tongue was echoed in movement, starting with his palms before it was a reciprocative action echoed in his hips...in the dip of his head. And despite his mind being uncertain, his body seemed to know the correct response.

Aqueous, sweeping, and languorous...like the slow roll of storm clouds in tepid skies. The ache was a throb, hot behind his eyes and in his fingertips as he twisted to get closer...to crawl into the heat that was burning through his body. Genesis made a sound that might have been a groan as Sephiroth licked his way into his mouth, tugging gently at his hair. The almost inaudible utterance was fuel to the fire spreading through his limbs, searing his veins and hissing into his synapses. Something shifted-limbs, torsos, _essences_ -grew tempestuous and swollen, and they were flush against each other and he could feel _every line_ of the redhead's body surging against his, the planes of his chest and the firm slope of his abdomen. Breath was strangled, his lungs felt too full...his subsequent exhalation was like the rush of collapse as air broke over his lips.

Without thinking, he threw a leg over the other man’s waist waist and _there-_. Sephiroth arched into it, grinding into the space as sparks burst behind his eyelids.

“Gaia” Genesis swore.

Opening his eyes rewarded him with blazing sapphire orbs, heavy with arousal and something else...some deep form of affection. For some reason, it gave him hesitance.

“We shouldn't” he muttered against soft lips. “Everything’s so-”

The body next to him acquiesced, grew soft, lay flat and he was between long legs...erections pressed together betwixt sleepwear and he couldn't think, couldn't do anything but thrust into that cradle of heat.

“I want to forget” was the gasped response as the redhead reciprocated his movements.

He was overstimulated, the white-hot blaze in his mind nearly overtaking physicality as he pressed his cheek against Genesis’ neck; open-mouthed and tense. Somehow, he was understood and he fell with the push that rolled him off the other man and onto his back, aware that he'd never submitted so quickly in any other aspect of his life. It nearly made him call for halt; the word was hovering at his lips...but then the older man was settling between his thighs...hot and heavy in the midst of his trepidation. Those slow, strong kisses returned...hips rolled and he was lost.

The trapped sensation of imminent release was overpowering, Sephiroth wasn't sure if he could handle it. A warm hand slithered between them to palm his erection and he hissed a warning through his teeth. It was instinctive, almost unintentional, but Genesis seemed to know that... ignoring the exclamation, squeezing the girth of him with a large palm. Warmth exploded onto his tongue, had him rutting up to try and move those digits lower...under his testes to the ache that seemed to be trying to devour him from the inside out. Then the redhead twisted his hips-fitting them just-so-and _yes_.

Sephiroth's orgasm began at the tips of his extremities, rushing inwards with an intensity that was almost terrifying. Dimly, he was aware of the ragged groan that flew from his lips as his body convulsed; curling in on itself before shuddering outwards with a sweet thickness that was uninhibited. Fingers and toes curled as a saccharine-bitter scent invaded his olfactory senses and he didn't need to look to know that Genesis had found his relief. Instead, he let himself come down slowly... relishing the weight of the heavy form atop him for as long as possible as long fingers tangled in his hair. The red-headed man pressed a reverent kiss to his cheek and he shivered, tilting his head to receive those lips again. They kissed lazily for a while until Genesis slid off him, rolling to face him with a sated and slack-jawed look.

“It's probably not hygenic” the man in question panted. “But I think I'll wait until morning to clean up.” Sephiroth smirked, echoing the Commander's position on the opposite side and letting his head sink into the pillows. “For what it's worth” Genesis yawned. “I might just kill Hojo.”

“The fact that you can think about something like that after all this will never cease to astound me” the silver-haired man muttered wearily.

Genesis chuckled.

“Oh darling, you were exquisite. But every time you show me how much more incredible you are…

...I hate him even more for failing to see the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm not entirely happy with this. I feel like it moves too fast in some places. It wasn't begun with the intention of having them discover anything about their origins, but it panned out that way,and I'd been putting it off. 
> 
> So the Gast/Ilfana theory is a pretty viable fan theory. We don't actually know who Genesis' parents were, so creative liberties were taken. We also see in DOC that Genesis is alive in Deepground, we just don't know what the hell he's doing. He seems to have a penchant for longevity that is equal to Sephiroth's, so the half-Ancient supposition isn't all that far-fetched. And, obviously, the Planet really likes him in this weird way. 
> 
> I know that Vincent is also a possible candidate for being Sephiroth's Dad, but in this AU it doesn't really fit for reasons that will become clear. Additionally, I don't see him being ignorant of Sephiroth for that long, considering that he did have contact with Lucrecia after she sealed herself away and more than likely wouldn't have kept that from him. If he wasn't, I also don't see anything that would keep him from razing Shinra to the ground to get to his son. The lines of his relationship with Lucrecia don't necessarily line up with his conception...unfortunately. 
> 
> We do see a more submissive Sephiroth in this chapter, which is probably a little odd but also tangent with his inexperience. Sex scenes are difficult for me, because once you start one you have to find a way to make it different from other scenes you've composed and getting to that level of literary diversity is a challenge for me. Also, taking the slow approach means articulating repetitive gestures in a way that is...not repetitive and I'm a little bit anal retentive when it comes to not making things a total droolfest. 
> 
> So. Me and my brain. Not a cute relationship.
> 
> -ended the chapter at night in a sleepy setting twice in a row. That's a personal faux pas, hate it. 
> 
> Moreover, (-_-). Keeping track. Holding strands of canon while knitting AU, more difficult in this case. 
> 
> Rambling over. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	13. Chapter 13

“Let's pick it up SOLDIERs!!”

As the order fell from his lips, Genesis eyed the massive transport copter behind him with no small amount of irritability. Before him, a group of eight footsoldiers scrambled over each other to fall into line and make their way onto the ramp that led into the massive hull. He nodded automatically in response to their salutes-it was a habit at this point, ingrained-keeping an eye on Angeal, who was carrying a small mountain of tarps under one arm and throwing a ration bar at Zack with the other. The SOLDIER in question missed and was subsequently caught square in the nose. Suppressing a snort, the Commander paced the tarmac with a feeling of restlessness, watching as the ground crew performed perfunctory transport checks; their shouts rising only to be snatched away by the wind coming from the rotors. 

HQ sprawled in the background like some great beast swathed in chrome, shimmering faintly in the early morning light. Lazard was standing near a lift looking unusually haggard. Rumor had it that the Brass had been rather ferocious towards its executives after the Archive incident. Tseng hadn't been seen since the day it occurred and there were whispers that Veld was facing an inquiry. Tensions were high, and while Genesis usually revelled in all levels of drama, he'd kept to himself for the most part. Drawing unneeded attention wouldn't help their cause, and while he certainly wanted _more_ answers now, he was aware enough of the severity of the information they'd garnered to keep from being stupid. 

“Hey.”

Genesis blinked and turned to raise an eyebrow at Fair, who blanched at his poor choice of address.

“...Yes Cadet?”

Zack had the decency to look sheepish.

“Uh, well, Commader-uh- _Sir_ , Angeal told me to give you this” the younger man handed over a clipboard. “He said you looked _board_ ” he added unhelpfully, his grin returning. “Get it? _Bored?_ ”

The FIRST rolled his eyes but accepted the attendance chart nonetheless.

“How kind of him” he drawled. “Please send him my sincerest regards.” He narrowed his eyes as Zack seemed to perk up. “And by that I mean please tell him to stick his sword where the sun don't shine.” The Cadet deflated like a balloon. “Dismissed.”

Hastily combing his memory for the roster, Genesis worked halfway down the sheet before his pen ran out of ink. Deciding that today was a day for lost causes, he placed the clipboard on a supply crate and swept into the hull of the helicopter. There were a chorus of 'Sir!'s as he entered the cabin; waving them off, he made his way to cockpit and shut the door. The pilot gave him a distracted nod but seemed otherwise too busy to engage in conversation, which was exactly what he'd been hoping for. Settling into the seat furthest from him, Genesis pulled down the pair of aviation headphones hanging above it and slipped them over his ears... trying not to think about the last time he'd worn a similar headpiece. Pulling the microphone away from his mouth, he leaned back and closed his eyes. 

Things were... different. It was hard to walk around every day knowing his definition of origin was a bag of garbage. If he was being frank with himself, he was surprised he hadn't known it sooner. His mother wasn't exactly famous for her ability to keep secrets, it made her very dislikeable...and his father was a famous man, and humans did love to dig up the past to ruin people. He couldn't really imagine the lengths to which they must have gone to conceal the adoption. Finally, he understood why they had no family photos, and why his father's hair had always been 'grey.’ They'd have had to work with the labs directly, most likely for a trade. Looking through financial records of the family had revealed a substantial increase in the Rhapsodos fortune sometime near the end of his first year, and a massive uptick of progress regarding genetic research in the Science Division at the same time. By his best guess, Genesis’ father had given them a growth hormone... something transferrable across life forms. More than likely ignorant of what it could truly do, Shikro Rhapsodos had handed the formula over in exchange for a child and secrecy. Genesis grimaced and opened his eyes, kicking the underside of the dash and earning himself a dirty look from the pilot. 

He didn't know what he was.

The redhead huffed and glared out the side window of the cockpit, watching as Angeal picked up the clipboard he'd discarded and shook his head. The 'J cells’ thing concerned him... especially considering Sephiroth appeared to share such cells and had suffered from a variety of emotional disturbances for the past three months. Genesis couldn't afford to go even a little batshit. He wasn't half as valuable as the General but he needed mako just as much as any SOLDIER, and you couldn't just waltz into any well of unprocessed earth essence and shoot it up like a junkie. There was a way to get off it cold turkey, of course, but it was painful and the majority who tried it lost all form of autonomous brain function and movement. Most retired SOLDIERS were carefully weaned and monitored by the Science Division. Besides, he didn't particularly like the idea of entering back into a life where he couldn't see in the dark or hear someone let one from ten miles away. He imagined it would be a lot like trying to hear someone talk to him underwater. 

There was also the concern of Angeal.

Watching as his childhood friend finished off the attendance charts in a weary sort of way, Genesis tried to quell the ache in his chest. He could barely talk to the man anymore without guilt rising in his throat to strangle his tongue. He knew too much now...too much _more_ about him to be able to act nonchalant. Gillian Hewley was his mother, but she had consented to having Angeal injected with 'J cells.’ What that meant for the dark-haired man in particular, Genesis didn't know, but he wished he knew less. He'd thought about coming clean to him, about confessing their trip to the Archives and the disaster that followed. He knew that Angeal wouldn't report them, even if his honor demanded it, he'd covered for the redhead for much worse. No, it was the fact that he would have to explain their reasoning...from beginning to end and while he was fairly sure he could give a decent layout of it without involving Sephiroth's story, he didn't know if he could disclose his part without revealing Angeal's. 

The man was stoic, grounded, and determined, but he put so much value in what defined family. Angeal loved his mother, and he would keep loving her, of that Genesis was sure. What he _didn't_ know was how the man would perceive himself. He had a simplistic but wholesome self-vantage; one that was based on confidence, integrity, honor, kindness, and loyalty. And-now that he was older and knew himself better-Genesis often wanted to kick himself for going after someone so nice... because hell, he would have been _bored_ ; but it was very easy to love Angeal. He didn't-however-know how easy it would be for Angeal to love himself once the core of his definition was altered. 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Genesis leaned over and pulled a water bottle from his pack under the seat. He needed more information. Specifically, about the 'J cells’ and what they meant for each of them individually. Both he and Angeal were part of 'Project G’, but that didn't mean they weren't dissimilar. Obviously, Sephiroth was considerably dissimilar, and while he didn't like to think what that might entail, it was necessary. The redhead tipped the bottle to his lips, narrowing his eyes. This-of course-meant finding the genetics lab. He had no idea where that would be, if it was in HQ at all...and he'd never been clever enough to 'befriend’ a member of the Science Division. Hollander liked him, _as a subject_ , he acknowledged bitterly. That didn't mean he wouldn't turn him in for asking too many questions. That left him with the Turk Division and Executive. The Turks he couldn't afford to mess with, even if a few of them owed him favors. He could forbid them from contacting Shinra about it, but that wouldn't stop them from nosing around. 

Tugging a ration pack from his pocket, Genesis watched as the co-pilot entered and began to chatter with her superior, crouching next to to her seat and lifting it up a bit before glancing to the side and noticing him for the first time. She went red and apologized, stammering out her name-which he immediately forgot-and a vaguely sociable line about him being 'comfortable’ and to 'let them know if he needed anything.’ He managed to fire off one of his usual phrases, something about _'how could I need anything with such a lovely pilot…’_ and so on until he was sure that she'd have been a puddle on the floor if she was an overly large amoeba. This left the Executive Division, he surmised as the girl slid into her seat with a dazed expression. 

The pilot shot him an absolutely filthy look, which he ignored. 

He could ask Apple. She owed him a fair bit, but she wasn't particularly loyal and he was somewhat terrified of her. More than that, Sephiroth went absolutely green with envy every time they talked to each other-though he'd probably never admit it-and in order to further anything in that area he needed him to be okay with that. Regardless of the fact that Apple would likely shuck off her clothes in front of the President should the silver-haired man declare that he was interested, it didn't make doing something he was uncomfortable with acceptable. Genesis wasn't one to tolerate jealousy, but everything about their situation was new to the General and he didn't want to breach his trust, whether for a good cause or not. 

The Commander's comm buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. Fumbling at his belt, the redhead unclipped it and scrolled through his messages to locate the most recent one. 

_1 Unread: **0455**_ Sephiroth:  
 _On tarmac._

_Read: **Yesterday 1342**_ Lazard D:  
 _I expect both of you to remember the specifics of our meeting a week ago. This especially goes to you in regards to this mission. Be sure to…_

_Read: **Wednesday, 0800**_ 1029547411:  
 _Reminder: You have an appointment with Dr. Hollander at 0945 this Thursday._

Frowning, Genesis stood, tucking his comm away as he did so. As far as he knew, Sephiroth wasn't on this mission, and it was unusual for him to be out of his rooms so early. They'd been rotating between their apartments,but they spent the majority of their time in Genesis’ quarters. This was mostly because he had more entertainment channels and a softer bed...and a well-stocked fridge. He'd also been keen to get the General away from his hoard of liquor, but they'd spent a lot of the previous few weeks getting plastered and doing nothing because both of them were processing the truth that their lives were pretty much a falsity in the unhealthiest ways possible. He'd come to the conclusion that he was a serial enabler when he woke up upside-down on the divan, with all the blood in his body swirling through his head and Sephiroth snoring across his lap. Then again, their relationship wasn't particularly healthy in the first place, but there wasn't much either of them could do about it. 

The redhead nodded at the men gathered in the cabin, pausing to sweep the overhead compartments with a practiced eye. This mission was standard; _tame_ if he really wanted to go there. Check the terrain, monitor opposition movement, don't get caught. From there they would formulate a plan of attack, hopefully one that would result in the least amount of civilian deaths possible...but Shinra wasn't known for being scrupulous in that area. Genesis was qualified because he was a major public figurehead and people liked to see him flouncing off to trounce 'bad guys.’ Angeal qualified because he was experienced in topography and he knew Wutai fairly well. Sephiroth didn't qualify because he'd get dangerously bored and he was too high-ranking for the Brass to consider asking him. 

Stepping off the ramp, Genesis was greeted by the sight of the aforementioned man leaning on a stack of crates looking stonily at the chopper. Green eyes were narrowed thoughtfully but they softened once they caught sight of him. 

“Miss me already?” he teased, sliding on top of one of the crates and nudging the General with his boot. It was close enough that they both could appreciate the proximity of the other, but far enough that no one would be spreading any rumors. “Thought you'd be in bed.”

Sephiroth shunted his boot away, tilting his head slightly so they could speak face to face. Genesis resisted the urge to mash their mouths together through sheer force of will. 

“Here.”

Something small was slid under the fingers supporting him at his back. Glancing around surreptitiously, Genesis brought his arm forward to cup his palms together, his eyebrows lifting at the small sphere within them.

“This is…”

“A summon” was the quiet response, the silver-haired man looked somewhat hesitant. The Commander whispered a partial-activation and there was a clear, trilling _'wooby-woo!’_ in reply. A grin began to spread across his face.

“You didn't!” he exclaimed delightedly.

“It's not exactly what you think” the General continued hastily. “And I don't believe you'll have need of it, but the weather is right and I know you like-”

“-It’s perfect” Genesis said quickly, allowing the warmth in his chest to spread to his eyes. The younger man’s mouth curved into a hesitant half-smile. “How did you…?”

“I...I may have taken a small detour on my way back from that Grasslands sweep Angeal's been harping about.”

“You did it yourself” the redhead murmured, closing the sphere in his fist. He paused to let it sink in. “You hate messing with materia.”

“I don't hate you” Sephiroth said simply. 

Genesis exhaled and tried not to look like a lovesick idiot. 

“I don't have anything to give you” he said quietly. 

The General tilted his head, strands of silver hair curling across his face in the high wind.

“You've given me enough.”

He was struck by the terrible worry that something awful would happen when he was gone. It was a strange sensation, something he wasn't used to.

“Be careful” he muttered, ducking his head. “Please. Tell me if Hojo calls you.”

There was the rustle of fabric, and he refocused to find that Sephiroth had moved to stand in front of him, one hand braced on the crates as he leaned forward, searching his face with uncharacteristic graveness. 

“I will.”

Genesis had opened his mouth to reply when someone cleared their throat. Angeal was standing a bit away from them, his face decidedly blank. Immediately, Sephiroth stepped away, his expression equally unreadable. 

“We're ready to go” the dark-haired man remarked tonelessly. 

Swallowing, the redhead nodded and slid down from his perch. 

“Take care, Seph.”

A hand caught his as he passed, and he looked back in surprise. Sephiroth's gaze was intense. 

“You be careful as well.”

Genesis smiled and squeezed his hand before letting go.

“I will” he promised.

“Let's _go_ Genesis!” Angeal snapped. 

Their eyes held for a moment more before the younger man nodded and turned away. Swallowing, the Commander about-faced to follow his friend, the resentment he'd felt at being treated like a child increasing the swiftness in his stride as he ducked around the bulk of a fuselage and strode up the ramp. By the time he got to the cockpit, Angeal was already buckled in and talking to the pilot. Stalking past them, Genesis slid into his seat and began to fuss with the restraints, ignoring the dark-haired man’s glower. The co-pilot announced takeoff with a longing glance his way, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the windows. When they were in the air perhaps ten minutes or so, Angeal nudged him and nodded fiercely at the headsets. His fingers flashed a resolute ‘7’ to indicate the channel and after a few moments of disgruntled deliberation, Genesis complied. There was a hiss of static as the changes were calibrated before the connection stabilized. 

“You're lucky Lazard left before that stunt.”

“Sephiroth just came to say goodbye” Genesis said stubbornly. “There's nothing wrong with that.”

Angeal looked like he wanted to tear his nose off.

“Oh yes” he said sarcastically. “Sephiroth got up at the crack of dawn to 'say goodbye.’ That's completely normal behavior for the General. Let's not even mention that fact that he _only_ got up at an unholy hour to say goodbye to _you_.”

He struggled to find an excuse. Genesis hated lying to Angeal, it wasn't in his nature and they already had space between them due to his constant avoidance. He gritted his teeth. So, he couldn't lie that they were seeing each other, that was clear. He _could_ lie about the circumstances. 

“So we're fuck buddies” he said breezily. “Something wrong with that?”

Angeal appeared to grow very old in a space of a few seconds.

“Genesis” he sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “Just because I'm a country boy doesn't mean I'm stupid.”

He wavered.

“...Hmm?”

The dark-haired man lifted his head and gazed up at the control panel, apparently trying to keep his temper. 

“You...you look at him differently. I know how you look at your lovers...the ones you throw away.” He took a deep breath. “I'm not sure _what_ that look is, but it's not in 'fuck buddy’ territory. It's not even close.” Dark eyes pinned him to his seat. “When we were younger, you didn't even look at me that way when you said you liked me.”

Genesis opened his mouth to refute it before realizing it was impossible. Dropping his gaze, he fingered his materia bracer, feeling the soft hum of the gift Sephiroth had given him just beneath it. 

“I...we..” he swallowed. “We’re dating.” Angeal blinked and he grimaced. “Stop looking at me like I've turned into a tarantula.”

“Dating” his friend said flatly. The younger man nodded. “And what, pray tell, does this 'dating’ involve?”

The redhead shifted uncomfortably.

“You know, dinners, movies, sometimes we play cards. Last week we went out on the Upper Plate to watch a simulated blitzball tournament at the Orchid, and we planned to go to The Zen'chtar to watch _Cobalt Dune_ this weekend but the mission came up. We don't get touchy in public though. We do most of it in our apartments.”

His fellow Commander was looking at him like he'd turned into a bonneted Behemoth. He recovered swiftly.

“And you're obviously getting physical” he said darkly.

Genesis wondered if was possible to get more embarrassed.

“What, you want to be my Dad?!” he snapped. When Angeal continued to look mutinous he swore. “Fine. Yes. We're physical, but we haven't reached the point you're probably thinking.” The dark-haired man scoffed and he scowled. “Look, we don't have crazy sex in the kitchen because we haven't had sex, okay?” He laughed, a bit incredulously. “I can't believe we're having this conversation.”

“So you're telling me you and Sephiroth spend hours in each other's company, _romantic_ company, and you haven't progressed beyond heavy petting?”

“Yeah!” Genesis exploded, a bit louder than intended. The pilot shot them a worried glance and Angeal waved him away. “That's exactly what I'm saying” he hissed, lowering his voice. “And you know what? It's _great._ It's amazing to be with someone who doesn't see me as a fucking piece of meat. Someone who's just as screwed up as I am, someone who doesn't know what it's like to have parents. Someone who doesn't have this _perfect_ , amazing Mom, or a family or anything. It's great and I'm actually happy, even though my life right now is a trainwreck I get to go home and spend time with someone who cares about me. That's valuable. That's something I want now. And yeah, a year ago I wouldn't be saying this but I'm getting up there Angeal, I don't want to die alone, and in SOLDIER that's a real possibility. You're getting up there too. Maybe it's time you stopped worrying about me and started worrying about yourself.”

Angeal had gone pale.

“Genesis” he said quietly. “You _have_ parents. And I know they haven't exactly been attentive to you, but you have a family.”

The younger man exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. 

“I'm adopted” he said, more calmly than he felt. “I have been, since I was at least three. I...I just found out.”

His friend was looking at him like he'd gone insane. 

“Look” he said quietly. “My mother...she was there for your birth. She was the midwife. She told me.”

“Because she _had_ to” Genesis sighed, shaking his head. “Your Mom is a resident on my… _their_ estate. She pays rent to them and if they asked for her silence she'd give it. If not for her own security, for yours.” There was silence for a long while, and he wondered if he was going to have to deal with Angeal dragging him to the Science Division upon their return for a full mental evaluation. “My...my D-” his breath hitched. “Shikro told me, okay? We argued, and he told me. I don't think he meant to. I hung up and he's been trying to reach me, but I haven't picked up.”

And wasn't that a perfect lie?

His fellow FIRST was silent, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, Genesis thought he looked angry, but then it was gone.

“I'm sorry” he said quietly. 

Suddenly exhausted, the redhead slumped.

“It doesn't matter” he muttered. “I...I can't think about it.”

Slowly, Angeal nodded. 

“I still-” his friend stopped and cleared his throat. “... What's different with Sephiroth?”

Genesis shook his head. 

“I don't know.”

“Try to.”

The younger man considered the query. 

“He...balances me out. I'm-” he chuckled and shook his head. “-I can get so...overdone with it all, you know me. Sephiroth calms me, he helps me think things through. I don't really know what I'd have done if he hadn't been there after that call. When we spend time together I feel... peaceful. And yeah, sometimes it's hard to get through to him. He's... he's been through some terrible things, Angeal. It's hard for him to trust people. But it's hard for me too, especially now. And I get it. He gets it. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense-”

“-It does.” He looked at the older man in surprise. His friend smiled gently and shook his head, chuckling. “And so the Great Genesis Rhapsodos falls in love.”

Blue eyes widened. 

“I never said it was love.”

Angeal laughed, a little sadly.

“You didn't have to.”

Genesis looked away, trying to ignore the flutter of recognition at the other man’s words. 

“It's Gast actually.” 

Angeal gave him a confused look.

“My last name. It's Gast.”

“Are they…?”

The blue-eyed man shook his head.

“They're dead. Both of them.”

A heavy hand was placed on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry Genesis.”

Slowly, the redhead nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled crookedly. “But I have a sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I actually was considering extending this. But I feel like it ended on a good note...one with a certain amount of finality. 
> 
> I've been wanting Genesis and Angeal to have a chat for a while. Keeping him in the dark doesn't sit well with me, and while he certainly doesn't know everything, he at least knows about the relationship. 
> 
> If you have any suggestions...I haven't figured out who would be a good pairing for Angeal. I can't really do Zack, he's just so young and I love Zack/Aerith. I thought about making him a sweet, gentle OC but it just seems...off. I may not pair him at all, but please share your thoughts! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	14. Chapter 14

The ground was wrought with red.

Ignoring the rapid retort of an automatic in the shadows behind him, Sephiroth swung Masamune in a wide arc; watching as his opponent crumpled to the dust in a spray of scarlet. There were more of course, he preferred multiple targets to one at a time...it wasn't exactly difficult, but it honed his reflexes. Pivoting, the silver-haired man checked his position; tilting his head and rotating his shoulder sharply-to the left-as a hail of bullets sailed into the space his neck had been moments earlier. Following their initial trajectory, green eyes narrowed at the flash of steel that winked from a high trebuchet. Slamming the hilt of his weapon into a nameless body trying to sneak up at his flank, Sephiroth crouched slightly, taking a moment to gauge the mass of bodies pressing in on him before raising Masamune slightly above his head in a horizontal position. This was followed by a swift hand-over-hand rotation that swept his circumference; steel glinting against a tide of maroon as he simultaneously left his crouch and vaulted upwards.

Above him, the sky was a black and grey vortex twisting into oblivion. Clouds were roiling backdrops against jagged lightning bolts that forked across the sky like electrified veins. Thunder rolled across the cosmos; nearly muted by the shriek of a fierce wind that seemed to howl its way into the void. The rain was driving and fierce, pouring down from the heavens as it slurried the soil and obscured vision. In the distance, a range of mountains flickered in and out of perspective like crouching giants; tall peaks a stark ivory against the blackness that raged before them. It was an oddly resonant scene, familiar in its perpetuity...an assurance of eternal chaos. A part of him hearkened to it, revelled in the scent of copper and death. Here, at least he had the guarantee of infinite chaos...of massacre and suffering.

There were a chorus of screams below him as he ascended past broken parapets, his gaze fixed on the mounted weapon and the shadow behind it. He ignored them, switching his sword from his left hand to his right as he alighted on an opposing rampart, scaling the structure to crouch low on the battlement. The shadow moved slightly, more towards the edge of the trebuchet...as if searching for him in what remained of the throng below. There was a flutter, a length of rope used to secure the catapult had broken free. If he could loosen the others the device would fall; onto the sniper and onto the crowd below. He wouldn't even have to touch them himself. Slinking forward, Sephiroth slid over the rampart; his feet finding the edge of the decorative molding as he kept his eyes fixed on the shadow. It was still looking downwards; hooded head turning left and right as he crept closer.

A soft-almost indistinguishable-'pop’ to his right caught him off-guard. There was a hissing noise, and he moved to avoid it-too late. Pain exploded along his left side, igniting directly under his ribs and trailing upwards as four more bullets hit their mark in quick succession. Sephiroth made a noise of distaste as blood blossomed over his lips, copper flooding his mouth along with an undertone of synthetic plastic. The shadow under the trebuchet swung about, aimed. Swiftly, the General retrieved the command pad from his pocket, thumbing the _End Simulation_ button with a feeling of indignation before pressing down. Around him, the world dissolved into a swirl of digitized code; sequences crashing down on one another like aquamarine waterfalls before disappearing as if they'd never been.

Gradually, the greenish-grey light of the VR room came back into view, and he peeled off the headset with a feeling of disgust. Exiting the enclosed space and setting it on the available countertop, Sephiroth checked his side perfunctorily; noting the already blooming expanse of bruises that would yellow and fade within the hour. It was good he'd only opted for a partial-immersion, he acknowledged. A slip-up like that in a full simulation would have incapacitated him for at least a day and necessitated a trip to Hojo. Incapacitation and Hojo were both things he would rather avoid. Unsheathing Masamune, the green-eyed SOLDIER checked it for any imperfections or nicks before putting it away again, trying to quell his irritation.

He'd been too distracted.

Simulations were the bare minimum of intense skirmishes, it should have gone down without a hitch but he'd moved too quickly...assumed he was safe before thoroughly checking his surroundings. Granted, it was one of the new scenarios, but that didn't excuse his carelessness. In the field, such supposition could cost him men…and that was something he couldn't justify. Glancing once again at the dark VR room, Sephiroth decided it would be unwise to attempt it again. That particular simulation ran a good six hours; while it hadn't been fully successful, he'd accomplished the majority of it and it was getting late. He had to go into the office the next day and when Genesis returned in the evening, he didn't want to be too busy to spend time together. Closing up the area, Sephiroth took a left into the locker room and started one of the communal showers; undressing swiftly and stepping under the spray.

He'd been questioned twice about the Archive breach while Genesis was away, and while he had no qualms with lying to administration anymore, he was concerned about why they thought he might be vulnerable when the redhead wasn't in or around HQ. Twice he'd caught either Reno or Tseng following him at a distance. While this wasn't particularly unusual, the bluntness of it was somewhat disconcerting. The Turks were respected for their discretion...this wasn't discreet at all. Instead...it felt like a warning. Closing his eyes, Sephiroth tilted his head to let the shower catch him head on, revelling in the moisture that slid past his temples to soak into his hair. He'd gotten out of his most recent appointment with Hojo, miraculously. Lazard's lecture on executive decorum came a few weeks late and by the time he had finished he'd had a message from the Science Division telling him he wouldn't be needed until the next month. Having built up enough walls to keep out a rampaging horde of Zoloms during the hours leading up to his appointment, Sephiroth struggled to extricate himself for several days afterward.

The revelation about his origins wasn't so much devastating as it was affirmative. That wasn't to say that he liked any of it, but it put certain things into perspective. He tried not to dwell on it, but it was difficult. Especially when Genesis was busy being wrapped up in the terrible truth of his own birth. Their dates were still a highlight of his week, and they were both trying hard to separate that time from the things that concerned or irritated them, but it was difficult. Sephiroth could tell that Genesis wanted more information, and he wouldn't be averse to it either. They couldn't break into another section of HQ so soon after the last breach, however, and they'd both agreed to let things cool down for a while. Shutting off the water, the General snagged two towels; wrapping one around his waist and throwing the other over his head, toweling his hair while he walked back over to his pile of belongings.

“Now _that's_ a sight I bet a lot of people would pay to see, yo.”

Reigning in an exasperated growl, Sephiroth yanked the towel off his head to glare at Reno, who was leaning on the door to locker room with a grin plastered all over his face. The redheaded Turk wolf-whistled before making a great show of ogling him up and down.

“You have twenty seconds to explain why you are here” Sephiroth said quietly, reaching for a turtleneck.

“And yet, _Genesis_ doesn't appear to have to pay for such privileges” Reno drawled, apparently ignoring the subtle threat.

The silver-haired man paused before deciding a response could possibly do nothing but incriminate him. Instead, he pulled the turtleneck on and gave the agent a deadpan look. Reno rolled his eyes.

“Look yo, we've got video feeds of you and the Commander spending time with each other” he raised an eyebrow. “ _Private_ time with each other, long stretches of time from evening to morning. You disappear into each other's apartments and don't come out until the next day, capiche?”

Sephiroth cursed inwardly, dragging on a pair of slacks. Wasn't it just like a Turk to play the most dangerous card in the pack first? But, really, he should have known. With the Archive breach the video feeds would have been watched from morning 'till morning.

“I don't see why this would amount to Turk business” he said flatly, throwing the towels he'd been using in a laundry chute and reaching for his socks. “Relevant Turk business” he added dryly.

The red-headed man chuckled.

“Oh it's relevant alright” he said quietly. “Because although you might not know it, _we_ know what sort of parameters the Doc has placed on you regarding... jiggery-pokery. And despite the fact that the _Turks_ don't particularly care about Shinra's assets, Shinra does and Shinra pays us, and ol’ grey 'n crazy makes Shinra _lots_ of that sweet, sweet moolah.”

The green-eyed SOLDIER narrowed his eyes.

“Then I have to ask why you’re here, and why I haven't been dragged down to the labs.”

Reno appeared to consider him carefully before answering.

“Because as much as the Turks value their position, we know what it would cost Shinra to...put down one of its greatest assets. You're not something that can be _explained away_ and we'd really rather avoid the mess entirely.”

“What do you want?” Sephiroth asked flatly.

“We want you and your paramour to stop investigating the Sleeping Forest mission.”

 _This_ caught him off-guard.

He jerked back.

“I don't-”

“-Let’s not beat around the bush” Reno drawled, inspecting his nails with a nonchalance that didn't fool him in the slightest. “You know it was an inside job, we know it was an inside job. It wasn't _our_ job-” he sighed when Sephiroth opened his mouth to ask exactly that.“-But the person interested in keeping it quiet does have a pretty good say within the company so it's _my_ job to tell you to back off.”

“What was done to us was inexcusable-” the silver-haired man snapped.

“-And it's been _dealt_ with” the Turk replied, a frigid undertone seeping into his voice as he dropped all pretence of casuality.

“And you expect me to believe that?” Sephiroth said coldly.

Reno's stance was rigid.

“We expect you to comply with orders that will preserve both the privacy and the longevity of your relationship with Commander Rhapsodos.”

“It's blackmail.”

The agent shrugged.

“Welcome to the real world; where emotional attachments get used against you.” He turned to go before pausing. “I feel like I should mention that the front page of today's newspaper goes excellently with Holmium” The Turk smirked. “Though oblivious to the method of their correlation, I think it does well to mention they go hand in hand. Good evening, General.”

The door shut, and Sephiroth stared at it with no small amount of confusion. Because as obvious as the blackmail had been...it was just as obvious that Reno had thrown him a bone.

* * *

 

“That _motherfucker!_ ”

Seated on what was-assumably-an armchair- but what looked more like an armchair shaped stack of manila folders-Sephiroth watched Genesis plow a horizontal path back and forth across his office; sheafs of paper flying this way and that in his wake. To the left, his travelling pack was slung over the white-covered mountain that was once a handsome desk, and to the right a flash of scarlet indicated where the Commander's coat was slowly descending into the depths of overdue paperwork... never to be seen again. The redhead in question seemed to realize this at the last possible moment, and there was an undignified shriek and an explosion of ivory as he dove after it.

“How do you live like this?!” Sephiroth asked incredulously.

“You're allowed to leave” Genesis replied snarkily, throwing his coat over his pack and leaning against it with an eyebrow raised. “I know where everything is.” He rubbed an idle thumb over his lower lip. “Well, the person who wants us to look the other way is Hojo, that much is obvious.”

The younger man narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly.

“How do you figure?”

A red-leather hand was waved idly.

“Holmium, i.e. Science Division, Holmium whose abbreviation on the periodic table is ‘ _Ho_ ’; thus, Hojo. Correlated because Hojo wants us to look the other way, oblivious because he doesn't know how the Turks approached us with it, thankfully.”

“...And you intend to let it go?”

Genesis smirked.

“If you really need to ask me that, you mustn't know me as well as I thought” he purred. “Besides, Reno basically gave us the green light.”

“Reno gave us a dual perspective” Sephiroth said dryly. “I don't think that constitutes as a _’go ahead’_.”

The redhead eyed him consideringly for a moment, his head cocked to one side. He then pushed away from the desk and closed the space between them so he could sink into the General's lap, one arm braced on the edge of the folder-chair. Sephiroth supported him out of habit, a hand steadying him at the base of his spine, while the other clenched reflexively on a leather-sheathed thigh before relaxing.

“Did you miss me?”

Whispered-like the gasp of an errant breeze-fluttering under his earlobe in an exhalation of warmth. His breath caught slightly, hesitant at the brink of relaxation mixed with a thrumming tension.

“You don't know _me_ so well if you need to ask me that” he murmured, tilting his head slightly so he could place his lips under the angular cantilever of throat and jaw; inhaling the scent that was solely that of the man before him. Genesis chuckled and acquiesced to the gesture, baring his neck and threading slender fingers through his hair. Sephiroth closed his eyes. “...Gen.”

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

 _Quiet._ It was so blessedly quiet like this. Surrounded by the chaos that was-in essence-the redhead sitting in his lap...there was a stillness to them he had failed to achieve anywhere else. In the rasp of leather against leather, the sibilation of breath...the thump of heartbeat…there was peace. Opening his eyes and leaning back, Sephiroth was greeted by a beryl sea framed with flame, the almost indiscernible laugh lines at the edge of each lid crinkling slightly as Genesis smiled and exhaled shakily; ducking his head to kiss him perfunctorily before standing again on slightly unsteady legs.

“What I want to know” the older man continued, picking a careful way back to his desk. “Is why Hojo decided sending a Summoner after a bunch of kids was such a great idea.”

The Commander sank gracefully into the chair behind his horrendous desk, kicking a leg over an arm and raising an eyebrow at Sephiroth.

“He was testing a product” the silver-haired man said flatly. “There's nothing mysterious about that.”

Genesis snorted.

“True.” The man appeared to collect his thoughts for a minute before speaking again. “So why target us? And where did he get a Summoner that would cooperate with him?”

Sephiroth frowned, considering his words.

“Maybe we’re looking into this too much” he said slowly. “Take yourself out of the question and that leaves me... experiencing a hormonal anomaly, which to him would be interesting in itself.” He sighed raggedly. “And if the Summoner was just a mutation with exacerbated symptoms…” he trailed off, Genesis was nodding slowly.

“...Then everything else was just collateral” the redhead said darkly.

“It's not excusable” the General replied harshly. “But it's very Hojo.”

The redhead grimaced in agreement.

“Whatever he was looking for, it doesn't seem like he got it.”

“He didn't” the younger man agreed. “Otherwise we wouldn't have been warned away.” He shifted slightly. “...You know how I feel about Hojo and his... proclivities.”

His fellow SOLDIER nodded.

“Leave it well alone, right?”

“I'm not saying you have to” Sephiroth murmured. “But in my experience, it's better to.”

“Mmm.”

He hesitated.

“If something happened-” he stopped, quelling the instinctual panic that always came when he thought about Hojo at length. “-To you, if you-” he gritted his teeth. “I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.”

Blue eyes softened.

“Okay Seph.”

Relief filled him.

“Thank you.”

Genesis smiled, his head tilted slightly.

“Angeal knows about us.”

Silver brows arched.

“Oh?”

The redhead chuckled.

“Yeah. He's okay with it...just. He's worried about what might happen if it got brought into the public eye.” Red-clad shoulders lifted and fell. “Always mother-henning. He knows about my adoption too. I had to alter it a bit…but he was understanding about it.”

The General frowned.

“And his history?” The older man closed his eyes and shook his head. “He deserves to know.”

“He does” Genesis said hoarsely. “But I don't know how to break it to him in a way that wouldn't permanently alter his self-worth. Angeal's very...rooted in his honor.”

“That he is” Sephiroth murmured.

“We should all take leave I think. Before this damn war gets off the ground anymore than it has.” The blue-eyed SOLDIER exhaled. “I want to go to Banora and talk to my-talk to _them_ ”

The silver-haired man eyed his cautiously.

“...Are you sure that's wise?”

A weak laugh was his response.

 _”No_. But I'm tired of being pissed off about this. It's exhausting. I don't know their side of the story, and I want to hear it before I decide to estrange myself completely.” Genesis eyed his desk despairingly. “But first I have to catch up on all this fucking paperwork.”

Sephiroth laughed.

* * *

 

“If you hurt him, I'm going to have to kill you.”

Standing next to Angeal in the lunchline, Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at the man staring straight ahead with a strangely blank expression. After a moment, the dark-haired FIRST appeared to relent.

“ _Try_ to kill you” he amended, grabbing his takeout from the clerk.

“Noted” the younger man said dryly, doing the same and following him to a somewhat secluded corner of the cafeteria.

There were a few minutes of silence, in which Genesis’ childhood friend stabbed at his salad with a kind of single-minded savagery. The General wondered if it was entirely normal for people to make death threats in order to ensure the emotional stability of their loved ones. The man had-after all-been the one to invite him to lunch. After a moment, the SOLDIER in question threw his fork down and cursed.

“Look” he said urgently. “Genesis...he…” he appeared to struggle with himself. “He really cares about you. I've never seen him like this before. I'm...I just want to make sure-”

“-I can't make any promises” Sephiroth interrupted, and the man looked stricken. He continued. “My life...it isn't mine.”

“I know” Angeal muttered. “That's what worries me.”

The younger man hesitated, unsure how to respond.

“If it's any consolation, I care about him as well” he said awkwardly. “...More than I’d like to admit.”

The dark-haired man, nodded pushing an egg around on his plate.

“Do you have a vision?” When Sephiroth looked confused he continued. “In the long term...what do you want for him...for each of you, in the future.”

He thought for a moment.

“I...just want him to be happy” he said quietly. “Even if it's not with me, that's what I want.” He turned his fork over in his hands. “I'm not... _emotionally giving_ would be the correct term. Genesis is skilled in fulfilling social needs but I...have concerns…”

His fellow FIRST looked at him thoughtfully.

“You're worried you won't be able to give him enough on an emotional level.” He nodded. “The fact that you've considered that tells me you're looking in the right direction. Relationships are more about accepting each other for who you are than about who gives what to whatever degree. If you're constantly looking to equalize things...find a common ground... it's not all about that. No one should expect you to change yourself in order to fit their needs.” Angeal shrugged. “You don't expect Genesis to mellow out for you, do you?”

Sephiroth smirked.

“At my own peril.”

His fellow SOLDIER laughed.

“So, you see? You're getting there. It just takes time.”

“Has he spoken to you about taking leave to visit Banora?”

Angeal grimaced.

“He has. I'm still not convinced it's a good idea, but if we don't go he'll go on his own. Even if I don't support it, I'm still his friend.” He took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I haven't seen my mother in a while, I'm looking forward to it.” He sat back. “You gave him that chocobo summon, didn't you?”

The younger man blinked.

“...I did.”

The dark-haired FIRST shook his head.

“Never seen a red one before. That was clever.” He smiled crookedly. “He loved that you know. Drove half the squad crazy riding the bloody thing about barking orders.”

Sephiroth chuckled.

“I'd have liked to see that.”

They were silent for a while, and the General took the lapse in conversation as an opportunity to finish his meal.

“You're good for him.”

The silver-haired man blinked, startled by the compliment. Setting his fork down,he tilted his head.

“...I hope so.”

“You should lay off the drinking though” When Sephiroth looked surprised, Angeal smirked. “It worries him. I promised I wouldn't tell, but he talks about it a lot.” He appeared to sober. “It's a hard habit to break, I know. If you need someone to talk to about it…”

“I'll keep it in mind” he said firmly.

The dark-haired man nodded and tactfully changed the subject.

“Zack is showing great promise, or so I hear” the General said at length.

Angeal laughed.

“He's got all the energy for it, that's for sure” he chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder how I keep up with him.” He closed his takeout and regarded him for a minute. “He's asked to spar with you quite a few times.”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow.

“...Are you sure that's wise?”

“I told him that as much as I have faith in his abilities, I don't have faith in my ability to pick his pieces up off the sparring room floor and put him back together.”

Sephiroth opened his mouth to reply when a familiar flash of red caught his attention. Genesis waved as he exited the queue for the lunchroom and slid into the seat next to Angeal, throwing his carryout down as he did so.

“Could have told me we were having a sit-down” he complained. “I'd have left my office earlier.”

“You needed the catch up" Angeal said dryly. “Besides, I wanted to have a word with Sephiroth.”

The redhead paused, his meal halfway to his mouth.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“The Commander has informed me of his intent to kill me should I damage you in any way, shape, or form” Sephiroth said flatly.

Genesis grinned.

“'Geal, you're _too_ adorable.”

The man in question grimaced.

“See, this is why I've never defended your honor.”

“Because I'm a big boy capable of handling myself?”

“No, because I'm not sure you've got any in the first place.”

Sephiroth laughed, unable to stop himself. The blue-eyed SOLDIER glared at him.

“Not you too.”

“You make it too easy.”

“I do _not_!”

The General sat back, content to let them bicker. Inwardly, he reflected that this was something he hoped that he'd never have to lose...this camaraderie and companionship. Angeal meant well, as a friend, and he could appreciate that.

Looking between the two with a feeling of contentment...he could only hope that it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell, I'm tired. 
> 
> I know.not a lot went on in this chapter (or the last,)  
> I'm still sort of closing that gap...finding that goal between action and dialogue. I did want Angeal and Sephiroth to have a chat though, and I know I haven't revisited the circumstances in the Sleeping Forest for a while. Thank you for reading.
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	15. Chapter 15

Banora was as beautiful as he remembered it.

Standing under an arcing, seemingly endless tunnel of dumbapple trees, Genesis tilted his head and looked upwards; letting the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches warm his cheeks. The dirt under his boots was tightly packed, travel-worn from the delivery trucks that ferried their precious contents throughout Mideel. The air was clean, devoid of the chemical pollutants that swamped every nook and cranny of Midgar...free of the chaotic magical components of the Sleeping Forest. In the fields beyond the arboreal causeway meadowlarks chirruped to each other beneath tall fronds of golden-green grass. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. At the apex between spring and summer, the temperatures ranged from the low to mid 70s. Just a bit ahead, the quiet hum of the village was a nostalgic backdrop to the tranquility around him; the creak of a cartwheel, the laughter of a child, the rush of water through the mill. Inhaling deeply, the redhead realized he’d never truly noticed how _loud_ city life could be. It had been years since he visited the country for anything other than a mission, and during those times his focus was elsewhere. It was quiet...quiet in a way that wasn't unsettling...quiet in a way that was home.

Bitterness rose up to wash over his tongue as reality caught up with him. Because while this was home...it wasn't truly his. He hadn't been born here, like he'd been told...and the man and women sitting in the big house on the hill weren't his parents...not really. Every footprint, every whimsical childish adventure wrought in sunlight and shade was built upon terrible falsity. Each rolling hill and tunneled glade was the exacerbation of a lie wrought by Shinra and sown by overprivileged aristocrats who thought they could barter life for lineage. Genesis’ breath hissed through his teeth as he fought to control his temper. He was struck by a terrible desire to burn it all to the ground; to destroy the idyllic masquerade before him until all that remained was a crumbling husk...one that mirrored his confusion and disbelief. It would be fitting...they'd _deserve_ it-

-A warm palm at the small of his back steadied him. Exhaling shakily, the blue-eyed SOLDIER glanced back to nod reassuringly at Sephiroth, who was eyeing him with concern. Angeal stood a little to his left, looking equally troubled. A thumb pressed gently into the base of his spine, rubbing in a circular motion once-twice-before retreating and leaving him bereft. They'd made decent time. Lazard had allowed them an escort to the shores of the continent, dropping them off at a small fishing village known as Ægir. From there they'd rented a battered pickup truck and made their way inland, which was what had eventually gotten them there... standing at the entrance to Banora. Genesis sighed and jerked his head, indicating they should move on. He'd have liked the physical comfort Sephiroth could provide, but news travelled too fast...even here. Here he and Angeal were war heroes, and war heroes didn't hang off the necks of other war heroes no matter how anxious they were.

Reaching the end of the Banora-White tunnel, the trio was greeted with the sight of a widened path, leading up an emerald hillock to the entrance of the town. To the left a smaller track led down to another tree-causeway, which dipped steeply before climbing up the side of another grassy slope and disappearing beyond. Banora in of itself was quaint; a wide circle of cheerey townhouses fit together to surround a small fountain that also served as a well. Red tile roofs glinted softly in the early morning sun and latticed windows were flung open, cloud-colored curtains waving in the breeze like so many ghosts. People milled about in the square; locals leaning on the well to trade news and barter wares. A group of four children chased each other across weathered cobblestone, their shouts rising above the rush of water. As they approached, the gathering of people quieted, pausing in their comings and goings to observe them with a reverence that made Genesis uncomfortable.

“Well” Angeal said dourly. “Nothing’s changed, apparently..”

As they grew level with the fountain, the group of children approached hesitantly, eyes trained on their gear and weapons.

“Wow” a small voice breathed. “How do you lift it?”

A deep chuckle startled Genesis enough to turn around, and he watched with raised eyebrows as the Great General Sephiroth knelt in order to bring himself near to eye-level with a little girl. She was redheaded, with a smattering of freckles across her nose and wide green eyes. She was gazing at Masamune with a kind of apprehensive wonder.

“It's not so heavy” he said quietly. “Longswords and the like are made for dexterity, so they can't be too dense.”

A button-nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Dexe-dex...eh?”

“Dexterity” Sephiroth replied patiently. “Swiftness and accuracy...so not as much metal is put into the blade.” He nodded at Angeal. “Unlike his.”

Understanding bloomed in the girl's gaze.

“Ohh…” She appeared to hesitate. “Can I touch it?”

The silver-haired man’s smile was indulgent, even as he shook his head.

“No. Your mother is over there” he jerked his chin at a flame-haired woman who was eyeing Sephiroth mutinously. “She's looking rather fierce, and you shouldn't take an interest in such things so young.” His gaze swept the rest of the group of children. “Any of you.”

The girl followed his gesture and grinned.

“Mama wouldn't like it” she agreed. “I'm Eona.”

“It was a pleasure, Eona” the General murmured, standing. “But now I'm afraid my friends and I must go.”

“But you haven't told me your name!” she protested.

Sephiroth tilted his head.

“I am soldier.”

Eona looked confused for a moment, scarlet brows knotting together before her expression melted into a cheerful smile.

“Okay, bye soldier! C’mon guys.”

The green-eyed SOLDIER watched them go with an expression that appeared to be one part amusement, and another deep sadness. When he glanced about to find the other two men staring at him like he'd sprouted antennae, he sighed.

“When I see children, they're usually screaming for their dead parents or lying on the ground covered in blood” he said quietly. “This was a gift.”

And that-Genesis found-he didn't consider weird at all.

If he were to be completely honest, he found it terribly endearing. However, Angeal was looking rather like he wanted to start some sort of therapeutic group hug, so he refrained from commenting on it. Instead, the redhead redirected their focus to the path ahead; where the path through town wended between the bakery and the convenience store and made a sharp upward turn, scaling the rise of a large but gradually ascending hill that was perhaps a mile in length. A line of massive Banora Whites ran parallel at its end, shrouding what was behind it from view. As they ascended, Genesis tried not to think of the many times he had walked or driven the path as a youth... returning from playing with Angeal as a kid…or riding his motorcycle back from school as a rebellious teen. He knew every twist and turn, every pothole, every overgrown side path he'd forged in order to ascertain the best 'shortcut.’ It left an ache on his chest that was at once both bittersweet yet filled with an almost overwhelming anger.

He was both relieved and resentful of the fact that none but the children had approached them in the town square. He'd recognized every face; ghosts from a painful past...whispers from locals who even then found him _'too strange’, 'too rich and privileged’,_ or _‘too rebellious.’_ It seemed the stigma had remained, even as his peers had aged and altered. Bitterly, the blue-eyed man reflected that while he'd certainly grown into his own, his face bore none of the weathering of civilians. He was taller, more angular and certainly more muscular but it seemed that the ravages of time evaded him for the most part. The same could be said for Angeal, but he had the advantage of being kind….a reputation people very rarely forgot.

The mailbox heralding one's approach to the Rhapsodos Estate was as pristine and tacky as it always had been. It was shaped like a cottage, with exterior molding synonymous to the mansion’s architecture, gleaming with a fresh coat of paint. Looking at it mutinously, Genesis recalled with a kind of vicious relish the time he'd kicked it over. He'd been beaten for it, but it'd still been worth the pain. Looking beyond revealed the sprawling monstrosity of the house itself. Wide, pillared, and five-storied...it was reminiscent of a grandeur that had long ago faded elsewhere in the face of a more technological and minimalist style of living. Red-shingled roofing gave way to swooping gables and vibrant yellow bougainvillea. Painstakingly mown grass was dotted here and there by flowering gardens bursting with plant life. It was almost unearthly-Genesis reflected-, in Midgar nothing grew. Metal and wire suffused life to create an artificial virility. The presence of botanical life was alien now, after having been away from it so long.

“...Are you sure you want to do this?”

The timbre of Sephiroth's voice was uninflected, but his closeness, and the softness in his eyes indicated a sensitivity to his feelings on a level that was deeply intimate. It spoke volumes to the degree of familiarity between them...the trust and respect required for them to have reached so high a caliber of cognitive recognition. Smiling crookedly, Genesis shook his head.

“You know I'm not” he murmured. “But I _need_ to do it.”

“Just…” Angeal paused and cleared his throat. “Just know I- _we_ are here for you.”

The redhead’s acknowledgment of the statement was caught in his throat, caught between affection and the enormity of the secret he was keeping from his childhood friend. He settled with a jerky nod before returning his focus to the house in front of them and stepping forward. The double oak doors seem to loom before him, ominous in their familiarity. The tassel bell-pull chimed softly, the tone an aching melody in his chest. A breeze fluttered across the courtyard as the entryway was revealed to them on oiled hinges, an old woman with a wrinkled face and tufted grey hair peering out at them through rheumy eyes. She was petite, wearing a black dress that was rather matronly, and carried herself in a way that was somewhat forbidding. The Commander knew otherwise.

“Well, as the sea and sky collide, if it isn't the man himself” she said in a dry voice, narrowing her eyes and looking him up and down. “You still look like a fire hydrant.”

Genesis grinned.

“It’s good to see you too, Itrine.”

Slowly, the weathered face split into an adoring smile, and the redhead stepped into her arms when they were offered. The smell of clean linen was wrought about her. This, at least, was something to be happy about. Her warmth was familiar, from her time as his caretaker 'till she became his advisor and confident in later years. Drawing away, he noted that she was looking curiously at Sephiroth.

“I remember you, young man” Itrine said, glancing at Angeal, who chuckled. “And I know _you_ from the television, but I don't believe we've met.”

“Sephiroth” Genesis said cheerfully. “This is Itrine, the housekeeper. She was my nursemaid and my nanny.”

“And your tutor, and your chaperone, and your designated driver” was the dry comment.

“Quite the undertaking” Sephiroth remarked, smirking. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Itrine smiled, but it was brittle.

“Who the tabloids present to you doesn't necessarily make the man” Genesis said gently, catching on.

“It's alright” the General said hastily. “I understand-’

“-You shouldn't have to” the redhead cut in, his eyes flashing.

Itrine’s gaze flashed between them, her expression shrewd. Another smile bloomed across her lips, this one warmer.

“Ah, I see” she said quietly. “You are _very_ welcome here, General, on my part at least.”

She opened the door wider, gesturing them inside. As the other two men entered, Genesis pulled her to the side.

“They can't know” he said in a low voice.

The housekeeper’s gaze was solemn.

“Sweetheart, I won't tell a soul.” The redhead exhaled in relief and stepped back, letting Itrine take charge of her guests. “The Master isn't in, I'm afraid” she said idly. “He went to check on the farms, you understand. Her ladyship is in the drawing room I believe.” She paused at the end of the foyer. “Will you be staying? I can make up some rooms.”

“I'm just here to say hello” Angeal said, leaning on an old Davenport. “I'll be staying with my mother.”

“We'll be here maybe three days” Genesis supplied. “I'll stay here as long as all goes well.”

Itrine nodded.

“I'll leave you to it then” she paused. “I trust you remember where everything is?”

The Commander smirked.

“I'm older babi, but I'm not senile.”

The housekeeper sniffed.

 _”Yet.”_.

Angeal chortled as she swept away.

“Same old Itrine.”

“Don't let her catch you saying the 'old’ part” Genesis said dryly, turning to a hallway that cut into a gallery. “This way.”

For the most part, everything was as he remembered. The gilded pictures on the walls were still as vague and abstract as they'd always been. The floors shone a deep mahogany, carefully washed and waxed by the staff. Vintage decorations littered various tables strewn at attractive vantage points; a vase of flowers here and there adding a splash of color. Light flooded in from tall windows veiled with thin lace curtains, chintz armchairs puffy squatting shadows in the morning light. Far away in the basement the sound of the kitchens was an underlying hum. A maid carrying a feather duster looked scandalized at having been caught in the act of tidying up before the Commander waved her away. Here and there a piece of furniture had been moved and the old fireplace in the lounge had been redone at some point. As they grew nearer to their destination the soft tinkle of a piano could be heard, and Genesis tried to loosen the agonized knot in his stomach that formed when he heard it.

The drawing room was-unofficially-Circinae’s domain. As a child he'd eaten breakfast there; among yards of scattered lace and pink chiffon, the smell of roses from the tea garden drifting in on the breeze. He could recall begging for just a few minutes more with the woman who claimed to be his mother, tugging on her skirts as she begged Itrine to take him away. She was there...sitting at the massive Grand, slender white fingers pouring over the keys. As much as her career in beauty had made her, the Lady of the House had more passion for music than anything. She'd spend hours composing sheet music that no one ever heard. The wife of a businessman couldn't be a 'performer’...after all.

An abundance of sunlight-colored hair streaked with grey was twisted in a bun at the nape of a graceful neck. She'd aged well-Genesis reflected-but then again the rich and famous had the privilege of doing so. Arched brows winged over luminous eyes and rounded cheekbones. Vermilion lips were parted with concentration, her focus solely on the keys before her. Her dress was simple but obviously expensive; dark satin and a string of pearls that would have probably cost him two years’ salary. His father had a flair for extravagant gifts...as if pretty things could make up for his lack of warmth and caring. She stopped playing as they entered, turning with all the grace of a woman refined, her gaze expectant...perhaps anticipating Itrine or the butler. As Circinae’s gaze landed on him, Genesis forced himself to unclench his palms...forcing his expression into one of neutrality. Her eyes widened.

“...Gen?” she said softly, and the redhead did not miss the way Sephiroth stiffened beside him. “Is it really you?”

 _This_ he'd expected as well.

“Surprised to see me, mother?” he asked bitterly. Hurt flashed across her visage, but he pushed it aside. “I'm on leave. Angeal's come, and I've brought someone for you to meet.”

For the first time, the woman before him appeared to recognize who he was standing next to. At once she seemed to be horrified at her place, quickly reaching forward to shut the lid to the piano. She flushed and hastened to stand, and Genesis savored a quiet sort of smugness as she nearly tripped over her skirt.

“If you'd called ahead” she simpered, her hands fluttering as she descended upon them. “And to not tell me you were bringing the _General_ -!” She appeared to struggle with herself. “Darling, you're always welcome” she cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “And little Angie!” She bestowed the same upon him, seemingly oblivious of the man’s grimace. “Oh, we are honored to have you in our home, General.”

Circinae swept forward, possibly to reiterate her act for the third time, but the silver-haired man stepped back pointedly, inclining his head.

“Ma’am” he said flatly.

For a moment, Circinae appeared lost; her arm outstretched to extend a pleasantry that had been rejected before it began. Then she rallied, clasping her hands together before her and smiling.

“Well” she breathed. “Your father isn't home, but I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see all of you. You _must_ come and sit with me in the garden” She threw an adoring glance at Genesis. “We have so much to catch up on!”

The man in question smiled tightly.

“I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we'd love to” he replied. “But first I'd like to have a word with you, alone.”

Annoyance traversed her features before she could stop it, but Circinae's expression quickly melted into that of indulgence.

“Of course” she glanced at the other two men. “The garden’s just outside, we shouldn't be long.”

His friends hastened to do as they were bid, but Sephiroth stopped at the exit for a moment, casting an uncertain glance at the redhead, who nodded subtlety.

“Now” Circinae chirped as the door shut behind them. “What could be _so_ important that it would delay our conversation with Shinra's finest?”

Genesis ignored the jibe, observing her with a level stare before gesturing to a set of armchairs.

“Maybe we should sit?”

“I think I can manage whatever silliness you're going to shoulder me with this time” she laughed, and he tried to tell himself the moticum of pain he felt at her whimsical dismissal of his needs meant nothing. Gritting his teeth, the blue-eyed man exhaled in a rush.

“Fine, have it your way.” He drew himself up. “I know.”

She blinked.

“Know what?”

“I know I'm not your son!” Genesis snapped losing his patience.

Whatever she'd been expecting, it was certainly not that.

Circinae turned ghostly white, the hands that had previously twitched with annoyance falling limp at her sides. For a moment, it seemed as if she might pass out, and the redhead debated with himself over whether he ought to catch her or not. There was a yawning stretch of silence in which neither said a word; the woman before him searched his gaze for falsity before looking at the floor. He kept his eyes trained on her, committing the moment to memory. The cuckoo clock on the wall popped out to call the hour, but it was largely ignored. Outside, Sephiroth and Angeal were putting on the pretense of having a conversation, but be knew they had heard everything that had just transpired. A few minutes more and Circinae appeared to stir as if from a dream. She blinked and opened her mouth only to close it again, her hands coming up to wring against each other.

“...What do you know?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“I know my parents are dead” the redhead said tonelessly. “I know you adopted me by giving the Science Division something they wanted” she opened her mouth to speak but he raised a hand to stop her. Surprisingly, she complied. “I know I was part of an experiment called 'Project G’, and I know my father was a scientist involved in that project.”

Slowly, the lady who had called herself his mother drew back and crossed the room to sit down in a chair. The Commander followed, if only to keep track of her so she wouldn’t try to make an escape or force a change of topic. The woman before him was very different from the one who he’d encountered upon his arrival. Indeed, she was different from the woman who he’d known his entire life. She seemed small and deafeated, shrunken in the overstuffed chaise on which she sat, her eyes full of something he could not name...but if he had to hearken a guess, it would be grief.

“So you know everything” she murmured.

“Not everything” he said roughly, and she looked at him questioningly. He gritted his teeth. _“Why?”_ he demanded. “Why me? And why didn’t you _tell_ me?!”

Circinae’s lip trembled for a moment, but he fought the remorse that rose up to pound against his synapses with an iron fist.

“You must understand” she began haltingly. “Your father and I...we tried to have children. For years we tried but nothing worked. Every procedure I underwent failed, and the doctors insisted there was nothing wrong with...with him. After a while we gave up” she shook her head. “It was too painful, too terrible to be filled with anticipation time and time again only to be disappointed. When...when Shinra approached us with the idea of adoption, it was something we hadn’t considered ourselves.” Her hand clenched in the soft fabric of her dress for a moment before letting go. “You...they told us about what had been done to you, but I didn’t particularly understand it, and you were so...so _beautiful_ I hardly cared. When we’d finalized the process I didn’t want to do anything but hold you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But Shikro he, he wouldn’t _let_ me! He said it made boys soft to be coddled by their mothers. By the time you were five I felt like I hardly knew you, and then when you grew older you were so stubborn and so rebellious I didn’t know what to do with you. More and more it became apparent you weren’t our son...not really.” She gasped and fumbled for her pocket, drawing out a hankerchief and pressing it to her mouth. “We didn’t tell you because...because Shikro said it wasn’t important, and because I was afraid that if you knew you’d leave and you wouldn’t come back.”

“And heaven forbid you stain your reputation so badly” the redhead muttered.

Circinae laughed, but it was bitter and unhappy.

“I...distanced myself from you very young, because I had to. Because in this world, status is more important than love.” She looked down. “I let Itrine take the place _I_ wanted, hoping that at least someone would be able to show you that there was more beyond the definitions of money and glamour.”

“You’ve known nothing but money” Genesis spat.

“That’s what we _told_ you” the blonde said softly. “Gen...I grew up… _destitute_. My parents were migrant workers from Wutai. Your father, he married me because I was beautiful, and he was able to create a concrete backstory so no one would question it. At the time, I was so happy to have money and grateful...and so blinded by the idea of a handsome young man sweeping me off my feet that I didn’t question it.” Her smile was watery. “And of course, when we had you I was blind to my negligence because I was guaranteed a successful, handsome and intelligent son who would do more than I ever could imagine doing for myself.”

Genesis struggled with himself. Mostly because he knew how his father could be, had felt the pain he could inflict upon those who disobeyed him both physically and mentally. It didn’t excuse her naivety, though he was more inclined to think of it as neglect...but it made it understandable.

“What a disappointment to you I must be” he said bitterly.

At this, she leaned forward and cupped his cheeks, and he could not bring himself to pull away.

“You are _not_ a disappointment” she said fiercely. “I am so _so_ proud of you. I know I wasn’t a good mother, I’m-I’m not really a mother at all...but it has been a _privilege_ to call you my son.”

With that statement, his walls crumbled. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed out shakily; trying and failing to hang on to the rage that had accompanied him for so long. Outside, his fellow SOLDIERs had fallen silent, and he sensed rather than saw them listening intently. Familiar yet foreign fingers rubbed gently against his jawline and he _wished_ fiercely that he’d hearkened to them sooner, that they’d both tried harder to find some sort of middle ground. He opened his eyes.

“Maybe…” he began roughly, then cleared his throat. “Maybe we should start over.”

Circinae’s smile was brilliant, and the genuinity in it tore at his heart.

“I’d like that.”

He hesitated.

“There’s not...not a lot to build on. I can’t promise anything.”

“I know. I accept that.” They were silent for a moment, and Circinae sat back. “Maybe we should go out and join your friends.”

Slowly, Genesis nodded, and they rose as one. Upon exiting into the garden, they found Angeal and Sephiroth discussing tactical maneuvers in Wutai, but their rapport quickly ceased as they approached. Both men stood in unison, and Sephiroth’s expression was notedly less closed than when they had arrived. There was still a stiffness to his posture; a wary protectiveness in his eyes as he looked them over, but the tension that had suffused his entire being was gone. Adversely, Angeal looked somewhat troubled, but the Commander didn’t let himself dwell on it...allowing the lady of the house to guide them to their seats and ring for tea while they filled her in on their duties. She seemed genuinely interested in what their roles entailed, and though her life was filled with little spontaneity she was conversationally clever, and they whiled away the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon as such.

It wasn’t until dinnertime drew close that anything changed, and the herald of such change came was Itrine. She knocked quietly on the door to the drawing room to draw their attention to her, her mouth in a thin line. The four of them immediately ceased talking and looked at her expectantly.”

“The Master’s come home” she said quietly. The housekeeper redirected her gaze to Circinae. “He’s asked for you.” The Lady of the House nodded and rose, exiting swiftly to do as she was bid. Itrine looked wearily at the three of them. “He’s invited you all to dinner” she continued. “He was especially insistent that you take the seat next to him, General. ...To the right of the head.”

Genesis snorted.

“Of course he was.”

Itrine leveled him with a stern look.

“Behave. At least for the sake of your mother. She...she’s taken the brunt of it, since you left.”

Sobered, the Commander watched as she swept away, fingering the rim of his teacup with a feeling of dread.

“That went well.”

Angeal’s remark was placid, content...the redhead shrugged.

“I guess. She was fair about it. Fuck if I know why.”

“Because she loves you” his childhood friend said seriously. “And because she knows she has a lot to make up for.”

Genesis groaned and stood.

“I guess I should shower before dinner.” He glanced at Sephiroth. “I can show you around if you want, it takes a while for most people to get a feel for the place.”

The silver-haired man nodded, rising from his chair and straightening his lapels.

“You should give her a chance” he said quietly, surprising him. The blue-eyed man blinked and grimaced, earning him a sigh. “I know it’s not my place. But I think you’ll be unhappy if you don’t.”

The Commander considered his words.

“Maybe you’re right” he said slowly. “But I’m not going to dive into this headfirst. I didn’t have a choice last time, but now I do.” He jerked his head towards the house. “C’mon...he doesn’t like it if we’re late.”

As the three made their way back into the mansion, Genesis couldn’t help but wonder if this was all worth the trouble.

* * *

 

“General, you honor us with your presence.”

Standing at the entrance to the massive dining hall, Genesis couldn’t help but feel small as he looked upon the face of his father. Like his mother, he’d aged well; the lines on his face giving him a refined and impassive look...rather than that of degradation. Shikro Rhapsodes wore a coat and tie, a sign of deference towards their company. He couldn’t help but feel a little resentful of the truth that the man would never have gone to so much trouble for him alone. On his few visits home during his initial years in service, he’d dined with Itrine and his mother in the salon...his father conspicuously absent. Eventually, the truth of his unwelcomeness had ended his visits entirely, and though the man occasionally called to expound on his wish to see him rise higher through the ranks...he’d never extended an invitation to his absent son.

The three of them had opted to remain in their military garb, though each had exchanged their travel-worn uniforms for cleaner, fresher versions. Only Sephiroth had somewhat altered his outward attire; covering the commonly bare expanse of his chest with a black turtleneck. Unanimously, they’d agreed that gloves might be somewhat over the top, and their respective handwear was left in their rooms...or in Angeal’s gaze, in his pocket. The man was obviously anxious to visit his mother, but he’d stayed for the sake of support, and Genesis was quietly grateful. Their weapons were also left behind, as sporting giant swords at the dinner table was not exactly common practice. Circinae was silently present on Shikro’s right, her eyes downcast and her hands in her lap. She’d changed out of her casual-wear into something more formal, and Genesis clenched his fists as he noticed the shadow of a fading bruise on her left shoulder. It was carefully concealed with makeup, but enhanced vision rendered the effect null and void.

“Likewise.”

The baritone of Sephiroth’s voice cut through his musings, and Genesis raised his head to find his partner looking expectantly at him. Shikro made a noise of inglorious self-content and gestured with his hand.

“Come, come, sit down. Don’t wait for that ingrate.” Still, the General waited, and the redhead was struck with the wild urge to kiss him. Steeling himself, he stepped forward and pulled the chair second to the one next to the head of the table aside, seating himself habitually straight. His fellow SOLDIERs followed suit, Angeal taking a place next to his mother. He didn’t miss the irritated glance that passed over his father’s features. “Would you like a drink? The wine is excellent, distilled you know...from the orchards.”

Sephiroth appeared to hesitate, and Genesis looked at him in surprise.

“Actually” he replied “I’ve heard that your apple juice is excellent.”

The redhead felt his eyes widen, a gesture that was mirrored by Angeal, whose lip twitched frantically before he reached for his napkin and coughed violently. Circinae was not so circumspect, and her soft laughter was like music in the stifled room.

“Oh yes” she said happily, ignoring the dark look her husband shot her. “Gen, he was the one who invented it, did you know?”

It was the General’s turn to look astonished, and he turned his gaze to the aforementioned man, his expression somewhat accusing.

“I didn’t.”

Genesis waved a hand, a flush creeping up his neck.

“I’m okay with it” he said dryly. “It’s not exactly a reputation I want to keep.”

“Mmm” the lady of the house continued. “And the wine we so covet is simply an alcoholic conversion of the juice. But I’ll call for it.” Slender fingers reached out to pull on yet another tassel, and an attendant emerged from the shadows, nodding his head as she conveyed her order. “Darling” she continued, placing a hand on Shikro’s arm. “We were just discussing how Genesis and Sephiroth returned from a mission a few months ago. And Genesis is heading the invasion into Wutai.”

“Surely you shouldn’t address him so informally” Shikro drawled, shooting an apologetic glance at the General.

“I don’t mind” the silver-haired man murmured, accepting the juice with a nod of thanks to the attendant. “This is very good” he added after taking a sip.

“Thank you” Genesis said cheerfully. Angeal was looking like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to explode with laughter or run out the door. Circinae appeared serenely smug, and Genesis was struck with the hysterical urge to throw his glass across the table and call it a night. Sephiroth was either oblivious or trying to bring the roof down on top of them. “So, _Dad_ , how’s everything running?”

It was singularly the most awkward and the most glorious night he’d ever spent in his childhood home. Shikro attempted to corral the conversation; discussing at length the corporate possibilities that could occur between Shinra and his company. These comments were directed solely at the General, who seemed to take a kind of savage pleasure in promoting Genesis as the sole purveyor of such expeditions, should they ever take place. His father then attempted to get the man to regale his adventures during missions, which quickly devolved into a lurid tale of when Genesis had to carry him out of the Grasslands because he’d stepped on a porcupod and gotten blood poisoning. Angeal broke in with a flowery-and completely false-story of when the redhead blew up an entire section of insurgent barracks by activating a fire materia and sneezing violently. This had evidently altered the terminology of _’firaga’_ into _’firah-choo!’_...temporarily of course. To ameliorate their efforts at making him seem like an inglorious-and increasingly ridiculous-war hero, they also threw in the utterly terrible mission when Sephiroth was forced to backtrack thirty miles with a company of fifty THIRDs in order to retrieve Genesis from the mouth of a Marlboro. This-in all honesty-had been absolutely terrifying, but the look on his father’s face was worth the reenactment.

Half an hour in and Circinae had practically laughed herself out of her chair and under the table. Angeal appeared to be having the time of his life and Sephiroth’s expression was contentedly smug, but unless you were looking closely it was very hard to tell. Shikro looked like he was halfway between complimenting Genesis and murdering him, but the redhead couldn’t bring himself to care. He was grateful. Not only to his companions, but to his mother, who had risen above and beyond anything he’d ever expected of her. He knew-instinctively-that the price she would have to pay for her laughter and entertainment would be steep...but the look in her eyes said that it was worth it. It didn’t sit well with him...but there was very little he could do about it without jeopardizing his position. He couldn’t very well stay and make sure that he never struck her again...he could only encourage her to look elsewhere. And he knew...from experience and by default, that she’d never do so.

By the time dessert had been cleared away and they’d each had a second cup of coffee, Shikro was very obviously sick of them. His smile was forced, and the hand that clutched the cigar he’d been smoking was very close to crushing it. The looks he was shooting his wife were increasingly dark, and Genesis could tell that even Sephiroth was picking up on the tension sizzling between them. A subtle frown graced those perfect lips, and he knew that if someone didn’t address the situation it would escalate.

“I should go” Angeal murmured, pushing his mug away and smiling wearily. “Thank you for the meal, please tell the Dorien it was excellent as usual.” He stood but paused. “Circinae” he said hesitantly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a vehicle to drive out to the farm. Do you think you could drive me?” He glanced at Shikro. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, I know you must have a lot of paperwork.”

Genesis sagged with relief. The farm was at least seventy miles away, and Gillian would invite her to stay the night, he was sure of it. It was a step down from the luxurious feather bed lurking in the eaves of the mansion in a room draped in red, but it was better than what she would face if she didn’t go. Looking at his mother’s expression, he could tell that she knew it.

“I haven’t seen Gillian in a long time” she admitted, toying with her napkin. “It couldn’t hurt…”

Glancing at his father, the redhead’s spirits plummeted when he saw the man’s expression. He would refuse, he knew it. His desire for control over his house was fierce, and he disliked a lapse in order...even if that order involved beating his wife before they went to bed.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Sephiroth’s voice was warm, but his eyes were frigid. “Angeal, you haven’t gotten a chance to speak with Lady Rhapsodos, as Genesis has. I know you’ve known each other just as long, it would be a shame to miss such an opportunity.”

And with the General’s endorsement, the head of the Rhapsodos Estate relented. He dismissed them swiftly after that, and they left in unison. Circinae hurried to retrieve her coat, calling Itrine to bring about the car. Genesis and Sephiroth saw them to the entryway, bidding Angeal a goodnight as cold air rushed into the foyer. As she was about to slip out the door, his mother turned, her expression determined. Stepping forward, she kissed Genesis’ forehead, patting his head as she did so. Then-to everyone’s surprise-she threw her arms around Sephiroth, who immediately went stiff and looked like he wanted to scream.

“I think” she said quietly. “That I should get to hug at least three genuinely good men in my life.” Genesis grinned. Stepping back, she looked gratefully at the three of them. “ Thank you. All of you.”

The door shut with a snap.

“Are you done being all hysterical?” Genesis asked dryly, turning his head to look at Sephiroth, who still appeared to be somewhat discomfited. “You know, there are worse things in life than being embraced by beautiful women.”  
“I doubt it” the younger man said darkly, eyeing the door as if Circinae might come bursting back in at any moment and force him to hug her again.

The redhead rolled his eyes and turned to exit the foyer, walking the first few paces alone before the silver-haired SOLDIER caught up with him. Instead of taking a left into the galleries or a right into the dining and entertainment areas, they went straight, through an arched doorway that led them into a vast room with white marble flooring that gave way to a massive staircase that rose swiftly before splitting into two parts; to the left and right. Shadowed corridors ringed the walls above, dotted here and there by ornate doors and glittering candelabras. They ascended to the right, up three floors before turning left and taking the carpeted passageway to the end of the hall where a door was nestled at the end. Opening it revealed a large bedroom with flagstone floors and a massive Heriz rug with red, black, and gold stitching. Here and there were scattered remnants of the Commander’s childhood. A poster of a cartoon series long taken off the air, a rather ragged looking rabbit perched on a velveteen bedcover. There was a picture of Angeal and Genesis sitting on the back of a truck in foot soldier uniform, waving at the camera. In the corner there was a pile of raunchy magazines with both men and women alike strewn across the covers in various positions. These had been poorly hidden by a stack of newspapers when Genesis had entered the room earlier that day, and he’d wondered why no one ever threw them out.

“I suppose I’ll leave you here then.”

Turning, the blue-eyed man was surprised to see that Sephiroth was still hovering just outside the doorway. Shaking his head, the older man smiled.

“No...come in.” When he continued to hesitate, Genesis sighed. “I don’t want to spend the night here alone, Seph. Lock the door. There’s an attached bathroom.”

Slowly, the silver-haired SOLDIER acquiesced, pulling the latch behind him as he did so.

“...Do you want to talk about today?”

The Commander paused, his hand hovering over an ancient copy of Loveless.

“No” he sighed. “No, I don't. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. Tonight I just want your company.”

Sephiroth dithered for a moment before nodding and striding across the room to sink into a chair next to the window...bending to pull off his boots. With a small noise of contentment, the redhead turned away and pulled open a drawer, rifling through its contents before pulling out a pair of slightly dusty pajama pants. Others items within caught his eye...a tangled chocobo marionette, a tube of ugly purple lipstick with some terrible memories attached, a scrap of paper bearing some nameless person’s phone number. He didn't linger. Instead he crossed the space between dresser and bed to begin the long task of unbuckling his uniform, stopping only briefly to turn down the covers. By the time he was done Sephiroth had disappeared into the bathroom to undress brush his teeth. When the man returned he took his place, lingering in front of the mirror to stare at the person looking back at him.

He looked...tired. The day had been exhausting, and the strain of it pulled at his mouth and eyelids. Dipping his head to wash his face, Genesis sincerely hoped they wouldn't be there any longer than was necessary. As much as he valued reconnecting with Circinae, he couldn't stay to watch her deteriorate. Leaving his toothbrush next to the sink, he exited the bathroom to find the General sitting up in bed with his comm, flicking through messages without really reading them. He too looked strained, but the redhead sensed it was from something more than idle weariness. Sliding under the covers, he rolled so he could nudge his way between the apex of shoulder and neck, exhaling as the scent of the man next to him invaded his senses.

“Something’s bugging you” he murmured against alabaster skin.

Sephiroth paused, his fingers hovering over the screen. After a moment, he placed the device on the bedside table and leaned back, running an idle hand through his hair.

“I'm...out of place” he remarked. “This-” he gestured at the room around them. “-It's not what I'm accustomed to.”

“I appreciate you coming” Genesis muttered. “I know it's weird.”

“I wanted to” the younger man replied, closing his eyes. “I just...things like this are transparent in value to me. I don't mean it as an insult.”

The Commander chuckled.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“...I am also pursuing sobriety. So far, it hasn't been pleasant.”

At this, the older man laughed outright. Rolling over, he threw a leg across Sephiroth's thigh before levering himself up on his elbows to lean over him. As he did so, the silver-haired SOLDIER opened his eyes; slits of green glowing out at him through moonlight-colored lashes.

“Well” he purred. “Maybe I can distract you.”

A silver brow was arced in consternation.

“...Are you sure that this is wise?”

Genesis groaned and gently pressed their foreheads together; grasping a long strand of platinum hair and winding it through his fingers.

“Do you have any idea how many people I've fucked in this bed?” He realized the error of his statement seconds later, when the body below him stiffened. “Shit, Seph. I'm sorry, that was…”

“Disgusting” the younger man deadpanned.

The redhead grimaced.

“Yeah, that.” He levered himself up to move away. “I'll just..”

Warm palms clasped the underside of his forearms in a grip that was gentle but firm. Looking down, he was surprised to see Sephiroth looking fondly exasperated. He let the man pull him back down, till they were but inches apart.

“I'm not saying no” the silver-haired SOLDIER murmured, brushing their lips together as he spoke.

“Thank fuck” Genesis breathed arching his hips slightly, reciprocating desperately. “I was afraid I was going to have to jerk off in the bathroom.”

“Still disgusting” was the mumbled reply, but the sting of it was lost as he bared his neck and exhaled brokenly.

The older man didn't reply, instead zeroing in on the soft hollow behind a flushed ear as he tugged at Sephiroth's shirt.

“Take this off” he muttered, yanking the offending item up halfway before pulling back so his companion could lift it over his head. The redhead made a soft, hungry sound as an expanse of athletic torso was revealed to him. Sephiroth's palms were running up and down his sides and he acquiesced as the man sat up, settling him in his lap as those lips latched onto one of his nipples. “Gaia” he groaned. A dextrous tongue flicked experimentally, working it into a peak as the sensation curled in on itself; shooting downwards in a sharp spiral of heat that had him stiffening between them. The silver-haired man didn't linger, pulling away to give the other side his chest the same glorious attention. “Come here.”

Their mouths met again and Genesis shivered, bucking upwards and pushing them down again, cradling himself between long legs as an answering shudder was his response. More confidence-he acknowledged-catching the soft flesh of a bottom lip and sucking gently. There was a considerably greater amount of confidence in the touches he received. If Sephiroth were anyone else, he'd have passed this point a long time ago...but he didn't want to rush it. Now-he thought hazily as strong fingers edged beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms-now they almost might be there. Gathering the length of that glorious mass of silver hair to one side, he lowered his head to gently lave the indent where neck met sternum; applying gentle suction and revelling at the flush he received in response.

“I want to try something different” he murmured, sliding his palms down Sephiroth's sides. He began a subsequent descent with his mouth, lingering here and there to draw out a response. The man was just as reserved with sex as he was with everything else. It was hard to draw even the slightest sound out of him, especially once the initial glory of discovery wore off. Genesis had to be particularly in tune with his bodily responses...which, really, was fine. He'd had plenty of ridiculously loud partners. The beauty of the General was wrapped in his subtlety, and it aroused him to a point that sometimes drove him absolutely crazy. Still, there were times when he needed those exclamations as a marker that everything was okay, and more importantly, consensual. He was terribly aware of the fact that he could easily take advantage of Sephiroth's silence without meaning to. Mouthing gently at the jut of a hip bone, he kept his eyes trained on the green ones above him, heavy with lust. He let his right hand slip under the cotton fabric of those maddening sweatpants, dragging his fingertips through a sparse wealth of pubic hair. “Is this okay?”

To his disappointment, the younger man urged him back up, only to gently shift him onto his side, mirroring his position. Genesis had opened his mouth to apologise when a hot palm dipped its way under the waistline of his pants; a tentative fingertip trailing up the line of his erection. Sephiroth's expression was clouded with hunger, his lips parted in concentration as he wrapped his fingers around the heft of him, squeezing experimentally. The redhead bit back a groan, nearly sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, the only thing stopping his from doing so was the return of a ravenous mouth against his as the General grasped his hand and guided it dowards. Taking it as his cue, the redhead acquiesced; pushing past soft fabric to wrap his fingers around the hard-and, frankly large-girth of Sephiroth's cock.

His reaction was newsworthy.

Not that he was sharing it with anybody-the Commander thought blearily-watching as that perfect mouth fell open slightly and a full-body shudder was his reward. The younger man buried his head in the crook of his neck and made a strangled noise that-really-he ought to have recorded. His length swelled as he stroked and Genesis knew from experience that it wouldn't be very long. Jerking off was entirely different from having someone else touch you, and that first time was...well... embarrassingly indescribable. The hand that wasn't currently busy threaded through the older man’s hair and tugged in a way that would have been painful if he wasn't so aroused. Then, Sephiroth reached down and and shoved at his hand indicating for him to move lower. Genesis conceded, writing it off as curiosity as he cupped smooth bollocks and squeezed lightly. The reaction was much the same, but then the gesture was repeated and he frowned. Because evidently the General had been doing some reading but he couldn't just shove it in and- _oh_ …

His mind careened between arousal and shock as his fingers found soft...wet, folds. Sephiroth _moaned_ and the color of the flush that suffused his cheeks was absolutely glorious. The hand on Genesis’ cock redoubled its efforts as the the silver-haired man bucked his hips, his eyebrows knitted together as another groan followed the first, and _fuck_ that was so hot but Gaia they needed to _talk_ about this, but Goddess-! Genesis made a desperate, wholly inchoate noise as warmth suffused his fingers; Sephiroth stiffened, his eyes glassy and wide and there was a wealth of liquid heat on his belly as he came that way too-holy _shit_ the possibilities were endless-no, _no_ he couldn't think this way but it was too late and Genesis’ climax nearly blinded him as a cry was wrenched from his lips. His vision blurred and the shaking in his limbs was enough to rattle his brain as the younger man milked a wholly ruinous orgasm from him.

When he'd recovered enough to think straight, the redhead removed his hand and got up, traversing the space between bed and bathroom to dampen a washcloth with warm water. Returning, he took it upon himself to wipe each of them down as well as he could before tossing the scrap of fabric in the hamper. Sliding under the covers once more, he wrapped an arm around Sephiroth's waist while frantically trying to determine how he was going to explain this without ending their relationship before it had barely begun. It didn't help that the younger man looked thoroughly, happily wrecked either. He was loathe to destroy that contentment, but he couldn't hide this. It wasn't something he wanted the General to find out on his own. Squeezing his eyes shut, Genesis took a moment to relish the warmth between them before opening his mouth.

“First of all” he murmured. “That was amazing.” He cringed inwardly as a lazy smile traversed lax features. A part of him wailed for it to wait until tomorrow...but he couldn't. He'd just keep putting it off. “Secondly, I need you to tell me everything you know about the human reproductive system.”

Sephiroth frowned, but was evidently in a good enough mood to indulge him without asking any questions.

“Women are equipped with a uterus, vaginal area, ovaries, fallopian tubes, and a cervix” he rattled off. “Men are equipped with the same, in addition to a prostate, testicles, and phallus.” He raised an eyebrow when Genesis was silent. “If you require more details it can surely wait until tomorrow.”

The redhead took a deep breath, because no, it surely could not.

“Did Hojo teach you that?”

“He was my anatomy and physiology instructor...yes” Sephiroth said warily. “Why are you asking me this?”

Again, the blue-eyed SOLDIER hesitated, caught between the agony that was the truth and the terrible pain that was the other man’s ignorance. Really-he thought viciously-not _his_ ignorance but Hojo's _insanity_. He steeled himself.

“Look” he said quietly, tightening his hold on Sephiroth's side. “I need you to not just...freak out and run out of the room, okay?”

“I'm naked” the General said dourly. “I'm not going to do that.”

“If I was in your position, I would” Genesis replied, then plowed on before his courage failed him entirely. “I...men…most men don't have what women have.” For a moment, it seemed as if Sephiroth didn't understand what he was saying. His face remained placid and devoid of distress. Then, something clicked, his eyes widened and he attempted to throw himself away. Genesis was prepared for it, tightening his hold as his struggles grew more violent. “ _Seph_ ” he hissed, nearly knocking himself out on the headboard as he twisted to trap the man under him. “It doesn't matter to me, okay?!” The other man snarled and nearly broke free. “Please listen to me! I think everything about you is amazing, you never cease to amaze me and this time is no less but it's not because of that that I want you to stay.”

Sephiroth grew oddly still, but Genesis didn't let himself relax. He couldn't see the General's face from his position, it was pressed into the coverlet, but his ears were a bright red.

“Tell me” the man spat.

“Tell you what?” the redhead murmured, more calmly than he felt.

“Tell me why you want me here now, other than for the sake of me being an...an oddity.” The body beneath him trembled. “A _freak_.”

Genesis exhaled shakily, releasing his hold and grabbing Sephiroth's shoulder so that he would turn and face him. Reluctantly, he did so, and the expression on his face was at once terrible and heartbreaking. Green eyes were suffused with rage, confusion, and grief...but more prominent than that was his _humiliation_. And Genesis hated himself for not being strong enough to stop when he could, to backtrack before the situation became entirely out of his control. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to kill Hojo...but instead, he fixed Sephiroth under his gaze and bared his soul.

“I want you here because I love you” he whispered.

The fear that came rushing in with that singular truth left him terrified. It was an all-encompassing, suffocating terror; like walking into a black void and tearing off the skin of his psyche to let it be ripped away into nothingness; its return only guaranteed by chance. Emerald irises searched his, as if wanting to rip the truth out of his very being.

“I love you” he repeated, stronger this time. “Not because of what you are, but because of who you are.”

Sephiroth was silent, still staring at him, still gauging his response.

“And who am I?” he asked tonelessly.

The redhead smiled, a little shakily; reaching out to thread his fingers through that beautiful hair, encouraged when he wasn't punched in the face.

“You're brilliant” he replied steadily. “The smartest person I know. You're funny and kind of sweet, if you pay attention anyway. You listen, you understand and you hear things no one else does.” He took an unsteady breath. “I feel safe around you. You've supported me, supported so many people in so many situations and gotten absolutely nothing from it. I think that's a crime. I think you deserve to be adored. I want to give you that. Please don't throw this away.” He shuddered. “Don't throw _me_ away.”

Genesis closed his eyes, despair unfolding in his chest with black wings. He'd never been good at romance. Flowery, insincere phrases at the drop of a hat, sure. Raunchy, obnoxious pick up lines that somehow got everyone to fall into bed with him, yes. Antiquated poetry that no one could possibly understand or relate to, absolutely. Soul-baring, heartfelt soliloquy on true human emotion...terribly, solidly, unequivocally no. In the end, he was as plastic and tacky as his parents were...and to the shrewd, it was obvious. Sephiroth was certainly shrewd.

So it came as a surprise when familiar fingers nudged his jaw, and he opened his eyes to find himself face to face with the seriousness that was the man before him. But even in that solemnity his eyes were soft, his mouth a gentle slope; not smiling, but no longer hysterical.

“Don't do that” Sephiroth murmured.

Confused, the redhead floundered.

“...What?”

“Don't act like…” the General appeared to struggle with his words. “...Like you're something that I could just walk away from. Like you're nothing.” His jaw clenched. “That hurts me.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest.

“I'm sorry” he said quietly. “I'm not undermining your character, I'm just used to it.”

The hand on his chin moved to stroke a thumb over his cheek.

“I'm not going anywhere” Sephiroth said tightly. “I...this is just a lot to take in.” He swallowed. “I'm... grateful you love me.” Green eyes narrowed, as if in pain. “But I don't know if I can ever say the same. I don't know what it feels like.”

Genesis smiled shakily.

“Yeah” he said hoarsely. “I know. I didn't tell you that expecting you to say it back. I can wait.”

The younger man was grave.

“You might wait forever.”

The Commander nodded, ignoring the pain that lanced across his psyche at the statement.

“In my opinion, forever with you is pretty great...whether you love me or not.”

There was a sharp rap at the door and both men startled. Itrine's voice came floating through.

“Is everything okay in there? I heard raised voices. You aren't sparring are you?”

The double entendre-whether intentional or not-did not go unnoticed. Sephiroth turned bright red and Genesis groaned.

“No!” he yelled back. “We're fine. I tripped over the ottoman.”

There were a few moments of silence, and for a moment he assumed she'd walked away, then she spoke again.

“Alright dear. If you can't sleep, I've put up a tea on the East balcony, the stars are beautiful tonight.”

The two glanced at each other.

“I'm pretty sure I'm done sleeping for tonight” Genesis admitted. Sephiroth nodded. “C’mon then.”

As he climbed out of bed, a long-fingered hand caught his arm. He turned to look at the younger man, whose expression was sincere, and somewhat sad.

“Thank you, Gen” he murmured. “For accepting me for who I am.”

The redhead smiled.

“...I could say the same.” He rose and tilted his head. “Let's go see the stars…”

“... I doubt that any of them could be as bright as you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Firstly, I think in the initial part of this chapter, Genesis is pretty AU. I apologise. I began his initial conversation with Circinae intending her to be a fridgid bitch. But she just flat out kicked my ass and told me to go fuck myself. So whatever. She's not all that bad. I hope it was realistic. Somewhat, anyway. 
> 
> I feel like we don't really meet Genesis' family in a lot of fics, and I wanted to sort of bridge that dark area, if that makes sense. Itrine is an OC, but I think it's somewhat logical to assume that he might have had a nanny. 
> 
> On Sephiroth. I know this may turn some of you away from this story. And while I will be sad to see you go, I understand. For those on tenterhooks; I've presented a vulnerable side of Sephiroth, which I know is unusual and I know that _this_ is even more unusual. However, I do like taking typically dominant characters and giving them a gentler edge; as I did with Anakin in Unconscious Design. This is, in effect, no an underhanded goal to weaken the personality of the individual. Instead, it's to play to their strengths. Different strengths yes, ones we wouldn't commonly see. And don't worry, you're still going to see Sephiroth in all his violent and magnificent glory. I'm just taking a different path in getting there. 
> 
> Finally, I know this is AU. it's addressed in the tags but this was always going to be AU. However, this is probably going to be the last chapter where this undertone of gentleness is dominant, because things behind the scenes have gotten somewhat ugly. We are going to see Sephiroth struggle with his identity, along with inner and exterior conflict from the other mains. 
> 
> This was going to be a two-chapter and is officially now the longest chapter I've ever written, but the events all span over the same day, so it seemed extraneous to separate it.
> 
> Thank you for reading. And thank you for your support.
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	16. Chapter 16

“This is some sort of _sick_ joke!”

Sitting in a little cottage on the backslope of a large hill, Sephiroth tried not to go into offensive mode as Angeal's tone rose steadily in volume. The man was pacing before the dinner table where they were seated, Genesis on the right, the General to the left, and Gillian Hewley in the middle looking as if she wanted the ground to spring up and swallow her whole. Around them, the walls were nondescript; white-washed stucco criss-crossed dark support beams that had been painstakingly lacquered. Here and there were scattered decorations; a vase of daisies, a mounted picture of the agitated man in front of him and his mother...a Shinra-issued calendar. Behind them was the kitchen, with a tea set out that had long been forgotten. Indeed, a shattered cup lay next to the rough hewn chair where Angeal had sat a few minutes before; amber-colored liquid seeping into the floorboards ...terribly synonymous in contrast to the stain they'd thrown onto the childhood of their fellow SOLDIER. Genesis looked nauseous, though the General couldn't be sure if it was because of anxiety or because of the events of the morning.

It was probably both.

They'd spent perhaps three hours on the balcony the night before. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't peaceful. In Midgar, you couldn't see the stars. Here, they blazed like billions of lights in all their glory, thrown up against the navy-black velvet of the cosmos. Here the space ventures Shinra had so desperately pursued seemed like reality, like the ghost of an ill-planned dream brought forth and laid bare across a tapestry of diamonds. In some ways, he could understand why people so fervently wished upon the glittering expanse above them. Who wouldn't in the face of fathomless majesty? Sitting there, he was encompassed with a desire to go to the stars; to have the secrets of the cosmos stripped away before him. It was at once exhilarating and jarring.

He'd woken in Rhapsodos Manor to Circinae's muffled screaming. It was brief, and if he'd risen any later he'd have missed it, but it was there. There was the sound of frantic scuffling and the slam of a door, then all was quiet. He'd looked to his right to see the redhead sitting at the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His hands appeared to have been clenched into fists at one point, but now they were balled limply in his lap. His expression-while carefully controlled-was that of a man resigned. He'd realized-in a moment of profound clarity-that resignation looked _wrong_ on him...much like how defeat looked wrong on men of great stature. The Commander didn't quit, wasn't content to be a passive bystander, and he worried about what it would mean for him in the future on an emotional level. Sensing his gaze, the blue-eyed man had stirred and turned to look at him, the hardness in his face lessening somewhat...but the darkness behind his visage was no less.

 _”When Hojo…”_ he'd stopped and swallowed. _”When he performed that-that exam on you...did he touch you…”_ he broke off with a hiss and turned his head away, but Sephiroth understood.

_”Yes.”_

Slowly, Genesis had nodded, his eyes closing as he did so.

_”I...I **hate** men like them.”_

His fellow FIRST then rose and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door. A few moments later and Sephiroth was treated with the sounds of him being violently sick. He'd felt helpless because while he understood his reaction, he also knew it wasn't solely because of what had been done to him. It was a culmination of monstrosities; his fear of divulging what he knew to his best friend, the truth of his own identity, the fact that his adoptive mother was being beaten several floors above by a man who had obviously written him off as a failure a long time ago, and the reality that his partner had been assaulted while he waited for him to come home...sleeping peacefully in his apartment. In some ways, he'd never fully understand the scope of the burden Genesis had been forced to carry. It was a moment of terrible clarity mixed with guilt... because he didn't know how to reach out to him. When he'd returned with wild, red-rimmed eyes, Sephiroth was seconds away from bolting out the door. Not because he didn't care, but because he didn't know how to show it.

And if he did show it, he didn't know if it would be enough.

_”We should go.”_

And that's what had led them here, what had led them to pull Gillian aside and explain what they knew, and what they intended to do. She'd begged them not to; practically fallen to her knees to supplicate them into acquiescence. Strangely, Sephiroth had felt sorry for her. Not because of the secrets she'd withheld,but because it was painfully obvious how much of an instrument she was of Shinra. He knew what it was like to be in that position...to live it on a scale that would have cowed the greatest of men. But it was becoming more and more clear that he wasn't a man... wasn't anything that the scientists and psychologists had hammered so ruthlessly into his mind. It was disconcerting and somewhat frightening, but it also gave him the small hope that perhaps this meant that he had a chance to define himself. And through the confusion and despair that was his discovery, that small truth gave him hope. Not only for himself, but for what he could be to Genesis.

“This isn't a joke.”

The aforementioned man’s voice was small and broken. Shifting in his chair, Sephiroth reflected that it would probably have been more helpful if they'd brought Circinae, because then at least they'd have the opportunity of a dual perspective, and Gillian would have someone to lean on once they were gone.

“I'm sorry” Angeal's mother was flushed and shaking. “I just wanted to do right by you.”

The General flinched against the earsplitting crash that was a decorative dish flying across the room. Genesis was so pale he was almost translucent. Angeal looked like his world was crumbling down around him ears.

“You let them _experiment_ on me!” he yelled. “ _That's_ why Genesis and I were always leagues above our peers, and I couldn't see it-!”

Gillian made a strangled noise and pushed back her chair to kneel on the floor and pick up the pieces of shattered ceramic. It was a repressive action-Sephiroth observed-one borne out of hysteria.

“'Geal, you _made_ that for her-” Genesis began, his voice breaking, but the look the dark-haired SOLDIER sent him was enough to silence him.

“Shut up” Angeal hissed. “Just _shut up_ ,you kept this from me.” His eyes flashed to the silver-haired man. “You both kept this from me, you went about your day acting as if nothing was wrong, _smiling_ because you're so wrapped up in this twisted, bizarre relationship you have with each other-”

“Enough-” Sephiroth began darkly, but Genesis threw him a pleading look, and he relented.

“I love you.” The three of them paused, looked in unison to the woman kneeling on the floor cradling the shattered pieces of a broken plate. Her grey-brown hair had fallen partly out of its bun and her eyes were swimming with tears. Gillian swallowed and continued. “I _love_ you Angie. And when Shinra gave up your project I was so happy I just wanted to put it behind me!”

It didn't make a difference.

Angeal shook his head, appeared to deflate, but his eyes were dark pools of grief. Abruptly, as if coming to a split-second decision, he turned and began to walk to the front door, snagging his pack up as he went.

“I'm going back to HQ” he said flatly.

“Angeal, please.”

The man didn't spare his childhood friend a glance, but he did stop to look back at his mother.

“You didn't love me enough to tell me” he said hoarsely. “You didn't love me enough to say that I was so different because you injected me with foreign cells. And you didn't love me enough to keep me from being different. To refuse.” He turned away. “That's not enough.”

With that, door slammed shut.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Every nook and cranny seemed suffused with a pall of incredulous panic. Deep down, Sephiroth knew that this spelled the beginning of the end...but for what he couldn't say; only that Angeal was the most level-headed and tolerant of all of them, and that his egress was the beginning of a monumental shift. For so long he'd been the keystone to their definition; their existence outside of duty. It was Angeal that had pushed and pushed for them to get over their individual pettinessess and come together on the battlefield. It was Angeal who had mediated countless arguments. In some ways, he might have never been able to _see_ Genesis as he did without Angeal.

“I just wanted him to have a better life than I did.”  
Gillian's voice was flat, emotionless, her eyes unseeing as she knelt where she'd been left by her only child.

“Gillian” Genesis said softly.

She blinked, seemed to only then realize that she wasn't alone. Grief and resentment flashed behind her eyes and she ducked her head...trembled.

“Get out of my house” she whispered.

For a moment, it seemed as if the redhead would protest. He recoiled as if struck and opened his mouth before apparently reconsidering. Then, that resigned look crossed his face again-that _look_ that Sephiroth realized he _hated_ -and he stood, waiting for the silver-haired man to follow suit before making for the front door and exiting the cottage. Outside, the sun was almost unbearably bright. It was such a bizarre contrast to the mood around them that the General was tempted to try to knock it out of the sky. This was-of course-an extraneously weird vein of thought and he dismissed it entirely. For a minute, his partner seemed like he'd been glued to the doormat. As if taking that last step away would solidify the events that had occurred. Then, he appeared to rally and began to walk back towards the truck, refusing to look left or right. They made it perhaps three-quarters of the way before Genesis imploded; stumbling slightly, gasping Sephiroth's name and grasping for his arm before covering his eyes with one hand.

He caught him because it was automatic, because he'd done it before on the field. Only this time, the Commander wasn't covered in blood or concussed...instead he appeared to be losing all sense of security. Which, in many ways, was so much worse. Genesis was _shaking_ and there was something so wrong about that...so indescribably opposite to the sarcastically witty, brilliant, and tireless individual he was used to. If Sephiroth were perfectly honest with himself, it was frightening. Because he wasn't Angeal and he didn't know how to pick up broken things and put them back together. Because his entire life he'd been taught how to destroy but not how to rebuild. Because he didn't know who _he_ was himself, and how was someone so unmoored supposed to anchor another? And as that terrible, brilliant sun rained down on fiery locks that were pressed against his shoulder, he wondered-not for the first time-if they could truly do this. Be together in such an intimate sense without destroying each other.

“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly.

For a long time, Genesis didn't answer. He just stood there, with his head bowed against Sephiroth's neck trembling like he was shell-shocked and deaf. All the while the younger man was desperately conscious of how public this was; that the Hewely house was one of a circle of cottages belonging to other renters who could at any moment walk out or arrive home. At the same time he knew the level Genesis would need to have descended to to act like this; he was the only person who valued his privacy to a degree higher than his own. In the face of such truth he couldn't push him away, couldn't force him to face something like this alone. He knew abandonment and disdain...and he refused to embody it. Eventually, the blue-eyed SOLDIER righted himself and seemed to realize his mistake. Casting a surreptitious-and somewhat hysterical-gaze about them, the Commander stepped back and folded his arms, wrapping them around himself...refusing to meet Sephiroth's gaze.

“...Maybe we should go back too.”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow.

“To the mansion?”

The older man shook his head.

“...No. To HQ.”

He reached out without thinking about it, catching a slender wrist and drawing his thumb over the soft underside.

“We still have two days” he replied quietly. “If you want to go somewhere else, I'll follow you.”

Genesis’ smile was hollow.

“Yeah, I know. But I want to go back. I need to work, need a distraction.”

The General narrowed his eyes.

“You have something you want to do.”

The redhead began to shake his head before seemingly to think better of it. Instead, he expelled a lungful of air and his shoulders slumped.

“Yeah...yeah...I do.”

The younger man waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead he about-faced and began to walk towards the truck again. Unable to help himself, Sephiroth caught a red-leather clad hand before he could get too far. Genesis turned and looked at him questioningly, his visage a mask of weariness.

“Are we okay?”

Sapphire eyes softened.

“I love you” the redhead said quietly, curling his fingers around the other man’s before letting go.It only occurred to him as they were waiting for a chopper at the edges of Banora; ...Genesis hadn't answered his question...not truly. 

* * *

 

Returning to HQ was a strange experience.

Sephiroth had thought he was disillusioned when they’d come back from the Sleeping Forest...now it was worse. The enormity of Shinra's ability to manipulate people grated at him like sand on stone. Gillian Hewley had been taken advantage of because she was a young mother who knew too much, Genesis’ biological parents had died... assumably wrapped up in the causes of the Science Division, and Hojo served no one...but he was a slave to his obsessions; to the point where even his own son was something to be experimented on. Instead of answers they had more questions, instead of questions, they had answers they might not have necessarily wanted. He didn't like to consider what might happen if they dug deeper, but ultimately the culmination of their discoveries would mean nothing without a greater definition. As much as Sephiroth disliked what they had uncovered, he disliked the idea of not garnering the greater picture more.

Genesis was quiet and withdrawn during the journey back, and he didn't elaborate on his intent upon their arrival. Quietly, the General realized that he resented this; not because his fellow FIRST couldn't have his secrets, but because until then they had always shared their opinions and goals. It was a divide that spoke volumes to the redhead’s level of mental distress. The silver-haired man knew that Angeal's derision was a hard blow. He wasn't familiar with having lifelong friends, but he knew what it felt like to lose people. Losing men he barely knew on the battlefield haunted him, had him sitting up with tactical mapping late into the night wondering what he did wrong. If something expected like military casualties bothered him to such a degree, he couldn't fathom what Genesis might be going through.

Angeal was long gone by the time they arrived. Word-of-mouth had it that he'd gone on an extended training mission with Zack and wouldn't be expected back for a month.

 _“I'm impressed, really”_ Lazard had hummed as he shifted through a mountain of paperwork. _“I never thought Hewley was going to let the kid participate in high-combat missions. Not that he coddles him, but you know what I mean.”_ He squinted at Sephiroth through his spectacles. _“...Why were you asking again?”_

By the time Hojo summoned him to the Labs two weeks later, the distraction was almost a relief. He was up to his neck in paperwork regarding Wutai, sometimes spending entire nights locked in his office signing release forms or going over inventory reports. Before Banora, he might have taken the time to visit Genesis, but he'd hardly seen him, and the times he did the redhead looked increasingly stressed. Their estrangement was gradual; one day he woke up and the redhead wasn't lying next to him. The next night he didn't show up in the apartment at all and he didn't provide any kind of reasoning as to why. Their communication grew awkward and stilted. Occasionally, he'd walk into his apartment to find a single dumbapple sitting at his coffee table or on his desk... but that was the extent to which they communicated. He told himself it didn't matter, that the space between them was one of necessity and duty. Genesis was trying to process something incredibly difficult and Sephiroth wasn't exactly the best person for the job. He understood.

...But more and more the silver-haired man found himself itching to open up that wall behind his couch. To go home and drown himself in something that would erase this anxious... terrible feeling of abandonment, however momentarily. It was the single thought of Genesis’ disappointment that kept him from doing so, but every day it got harder. So when his pager blinked with Hojo's summons he found himself dropping everything to hearken to it, because the pain he knew he'd experience in the labs was nothing to the pain he was experiencing now. As the elevator descended, his comm went off but he ignored it; preferring to traverse the low-lit hallways and endless glass without distraction.

Hojo wasn't in the labs when he arrived, more than likely not expecting him to attend so obediently. The techs didn't seem to know what to do with him, so they pushed him into a corner and handed him a glass of milk. This wasn't particularly odd, but he wasn't ten anymore and the fact that some of the lab personnel still viewed him as an adolescent was irritating. He sometimes wondered if Hojo purposefully kept his assistants out of the general loop; confined to the Science Division until they lost all sense of time...driven only by their occupational focus. It was such a disturbing thought that he often dismissed it entirely, but now he was beginning to wonder if it was true. Most of Hojo's employees were older, and he rarely recruited new people. Admission to his labs was only granted after a vicious screening process, one that required above 'above-average’ intelligence and a non-disclosure contract that spanned sixty pages. Shinra touted their Head Scientist as an innovative genius dedicated to academic and clinical progression. It was what allowed him to screen so many people, but he never picked anyone too centered on sympathy. Whenever he saw a new face, Sephiroth wanted to ask them who they'd killed to get there.

“It seems my little lesson last time has done wonders for your punctuality.”

Fingering his glass of milk, the General decided silence was his best friend for the time being. Hojo beckoned for him to follow and he stood, setting his drink aside and doing as he was told; passing through the double doors leading to the exam area without comment. Undressing, the sterile atmosphere around him was an anticipatory comfort for once...rather than a repellent. A part of him acknowledged that this was an extremely unhealthy mentality, but in his mind, things couldn't get much worse.

In the end, it was a cut and dry appointment.

By the time he was nearly done, Sephiroth was feeling frantically sick at the thought of going back to his apartment and sleeping alone. He was _used_ to Genesis, and his sudden absence was almost unbearable at night. Adversely, he was also aware of how dangerous it was for him to have such thoughts around Hojo. The man had an eye for his emotions that only the Commander could rival, and if he started looking like he was falling apart at the seams he would most definitely notice. He didn't _need_ this man’s attention, particularly after what he'd done the last time. Still, as the scientist put away his examination tray and began going through his charts, the panic only increased. He knew if he went home right now he'd drink himself into a stupor, and the amount of discipline he'd mustered up with Genesis’ support was achingly absent. He felt weak and pathetic for needing someone so much...for leaning on a single individual long enough to trust him with his stability, he knew better than that. Had _always_ known better than that, but the terminology of _'swept off his feet,’_ was glaringly obvious and-

“-It amazes me that a father could so disregard his son.”

The minute the words were out of his mouth, Sephiroth regretted them. Hojo's pen clattered from his fingers onto the floor; the clipboard rattled dangerously before it was tossed onto the exam table. The scientist turned and regarded him with incredulous eyes, though the expression didn't last long. Instead, his gaze turned hard and sharp, fingers inching towards the tray of surgical equipment before pulling back.

“So you know” he sneered.. When the silver-haired SOLDIER didn't reply, he continued. “What's _more_ important, however, is _how_ you know.”

The General gritted his teeth.

“Like how I know I'm anatomically genderless?” he drawled, throwing caution to the wind.

Bespectacled eyes narrowed.

“Careful boy” Hojo leered. “Or I might assume you're doing something… _untoward_ in your free time.” He tilted his head in a manner not unlike a bird of prey. “...Let me guess. Whoever broke into the Archives contacted you, divulged classified information about your identity, and then asked for something in return.”

“You know I'll never tell you” Sephiroth replied coldly.

The vicious, predatory smile that spread across the scientist’s face was chilling. Dropping all pretence of cordiality, he reached for the restraints. And while the silver-haired man half-heartedly resisted, still another part _yielded_ with a sense of relief.

“Oh, I know you won't” Hojo purred. “But I'm going to have so much _fun_ trying.” He reached for a syringe, thumbing a scalpel with the other. “Let's call this an internal evaluation, shall we?”

As paralytic immobillity sank into his veins, Sephiroth acknowledged that this had been a mistake. More alarming than that was his inability to really care about it. And yet the man currently cradling a strabismus was still his father; and he couldn't understand that... couldn't rationalize it with the years of horrific torture behind him.

“I'm your _son_ ” he wheezed as the scalpel bit down.

The absurdity of the statement didn't appear to escape either of them. The raw contrast between the man watching his blood slither out onto the gurney and the man he should have been was sickening. The strabismus descended and green-eyed SOLDIER nearly bit through his lower lip.

“You're nothing” Hojo said placidly.

And as the red arc of pain rose to suffuse his psyche…Sephiroth resigned himself to the fact that it was probably true.

* * *

 

By the time everything was said and done, Sephiroth couldn't see straight.

Hojo had patched him up perfunctorily, which was a polite way of saying that he'd wrapped his incisions in a single layer of gauze, pumped him full of morphine and given him enough mako to power Shinra's sublevels for a day and a half. He'd also told him never to mention his lineage again, to him or anyone else, or he'd put him out of commission. It was-in a sense-exactly what he'd been pushing for; but instead of a sense of distraction it left him with an empty feeling that was not wholly unfamiliar. It was 2300 when he exited the Science Division, and by the time he'd made it halfway to the President's floor he was leaving a blood trail several inches wide and hallucinating nearly to the point of illucidity. He acknowledged that this was bad. _Very bad._ Because unlike other times he couldn't call up to ask his fellow FIRSTs for a Curaga, and he _needed_ a top grade materia if he was going to survive the night. Mako was a rapid regenerator, but recently administered mako acted as an anticoagulant. Rationally, he told himself that Hojo probably didn't know he'd essentially sent him to his death, but the idea of him being the last somewhat familiar face he ever saw wasn't comforting in the least.

Finagling his way into the lift and selecting his floor, the General vaguely remembered receiving a notification on his comm. Pulling it out, he realized-in a moment of terrible mortal humor-that this might be the last message he ever received...and if it was job-related he'd be forever remembered for literally working himself to death. The hysteria that arose from this realization didn't bring him any sort of comfort. A dark red stain was slowly seeping through the leather of his jacket as he fumbled with commands, struggling to keep his head in one place as he squinted against the agonizingly bright display lights:

 _6 Unread: **1835**_ Genesis:  
_Hey, want to grab dinner?_

 **1920:**  
_Heloooo?_

 **2043:**  
_Look, I'm sorry I haven't been around lately but I had to check something really important. I have some news._

 **2130:**  
_...You aren't in your office or your apartment...where the hell are you?_

 **2245:**  
_You have to come back at some point, you left Masamune here. I can wait._

 **2258**  
_If you went to see Hojo without telling me I'm going to kill you._

Sephiroth laughed weakly at the irony in the last message, wincing as discomfort blossomed in his chest. Sliding down the wall, he grabbed an errant strand of silver hair and yanked to keep himself awake. He...might have overstepped his assumptions. This wasn't so much comforting as it was horrifying, because now he had the privilege of dying before he was able to tell Genesis he was sorry...or to demand why he'd essentially ignored him for two weeks. He wasn't sure which one he wanted to do more, he was so obviously terrible at picking up social cues he didn't feel like he had much of a right to do either. The front of his jacket was saturated in scarlet, and he acknowledged that it was probably a pointless thing to worry about. At this point, it didn't look like he was going to make it out of the elevator. There was the tell-tale _***ping***_ indicative of arrival, but his vision was too compromised for him to fumble for the support rail...let alone find a way out. A coppery taste exploded over his tongue, rising to invade his olfactory sensed as he blindly made a pass for the doors. There was a hiss indicative of their closing and he felt a sharp pang of hopelessness that was quickly replaced by a sort of dull acceptance.

Something was wet, warm, and oleaginous beneath him, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own blood spreading out to seep into his leathers. Vaguely, the green-eyed SOLDIER was aware of a shuddering ***bang*** as someone with an inchoate amount of strength yanked the lift doors open again. There was an unintelligible exclamation; desperate, disbelieving, and indescribably _frightened_. Something-someone-was shifting him, trying to drag him somewhere and the pain that had previously been dormant flared to life and he heard himself cry out. Abruptly, he was released and he was accosted with the sensation of continuous descent...of falling into a dark, weightless hole. There was a feeling of profound peace, a flare of beautiful emerald light that seemed to rise up to encompass the entirety of his soul. Eons away, he could see something...a shape much like that of a woman. She was clad in glittering gold, with a headdress that seemed to span the horizon in its magnificence. Hands as pale and bright as lilies lifted to beckon to him...his name like a song on her lips….

**_”No.”_ **

_It_ stirred then. That massive, far away presence that he hadn't felt since the Sleeping Forest. Sephiroth was imbued with a sensation of virulent purpose as it- _she_ -took hold of his psyche and practically crucified it back into existence. Existential claws dug their way into his synapses and put down poisonous roots; oozing between neurons to shoot adrenaline into his system like bolts of violet lightening.

**_”You're mine.”_ **

_”No, he’s **mine**!”_

_”...He’s yours.”_

Abruptly, his vision cleared, and he was accosted with the sight of Genesis activating a Curaga, his face a mask of desperate focus. More obvious than the materia was the breathtaking blaze of emerald haloing his body; like the undulating dance of the aurora borealis. It was familiar somehow... familiar in a way that was the essence of all living things. He understood something then, something profound and all-encompassing. The magnitude of it escaped him like a fleeting shadow, but the comprehension was clear. Sephiroth was suddenly aware of another form beyond his partner's; corporeal and shot through with light. Small...she was small...with waves of reddish-brown hair and eyes that were blue like sapphires...blue like the ocean...blue like _his_. The recognition was painful, the understanding that he couldn't put into words because his mouth was full of blood and he couldn't form a sentence to save his life. He wanted to ask who she was, _where_ she was but he couldn't-! And yet, amidst the turmoil that surrounded them, against the tumult that was calamitous in everything it touched...she understood. Familiar, cerulean eyes turned to him...searched him...as if searching his soul…

 _”I'm Aerith.”_ She smiled and tilted her head before nodding reassuringly. _”You're his, not hers. It's okay.”_

Offhandedly, the General found himself wondering if he was worth all this fucking trouble. Because this was getting just a little ridiculous. Then, like the apex of a storm dying out in a roll of shuddering thunder, it all ceased. The insidious presence in his mind gave one final heave before it dissipated like venomous mist, the form- _Aerith_ -faded into a soft golden glow before disappearing entirely, the Curaga took hold and there was the excruciating wrench as flesh and bone flooded together-mixing with the overload of materia in his system-and Sephiroth's consciousness was yanked back from the threshold of Oblivion. He took a deep, gulping breath-his first in several minutes, he realized-and his lungs convulsed as they attempted to regain the air that had been absent for so long. Genesis collapsed onto his chest and exhaled in a long, low wail that was not unlike a wounded animal.

For several minutes-or maybe hours, it was hard to tell-neither of them moved. Long, leather-clad fingers roamed the silver-haired man's body; checking for imperfections, sliding beneath the criss-crossed lattice of his armour to feel his heartbeat. Tentatively, Sephiroth lifted a hand to card through scarlet locks only to have it slapped away. A while longer and the palm that had done so reached out to grasp it in an iron grip that trembled fiercely before relaxing once more.

“I’ve been talking to Hollander” Genesis breathed against his stomach.

It felt like a confession.

Sephiroth found he didn't care.

“Genesis…” he said hoarsely, pushing at the blue-eyed SOLDIER's forehead 'till he lifted his chin to look at him.

“...I know who your sister is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Yet ANOTHER chapter that didn't go AT ALL like I was expecting it to. Because Genesis and Sephiroth were not supposed to make up in any relative way in this chapter. And I guess on specific terms, they didn't, but if saving Sephiroth's life is.not 'making up' I have no idea what is. And Hojo wasn't supposed to find out that Sephiroth found out. 
> 
> So, guys. The characters took the wheel here. I'm not responsible. 
> 
> All in all, my only caveat is that this feels rushed. I kept adding fillers here and there but ultimately too much filler can take away from the goal of the chapter. 
> 
> ....Which was not mine
> 
> It's theirs. _All theirs._
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I'm totally liable.  
> P.S.S. I whump Sephiroth a lot. He's very whumpable. Poor guy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot??? What Plot?

Losing Angeal was possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Scrubbing Sephiroth's blood out from under his fingernails at the kitchen sink, Genesis took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. In the bathroom, the sound of the shower was a soft backdrop to more prominent ambience; the hum of the fridge, the rush of water over his hands, the unsteady rhythm of his own breath. Steeling himself, the redhead reached for the soap for what felt like the thousandth time. ...He couldn't live like this anymore; caught up in the myriad of falsities that encompassed him and the regime he worked for. His own atrocities he could live with. Murder and bloodshed were concrete factors that a SOLDIER learned to disregard. In the name of 'duty’ it was a simplistic and focused definition. Now, that definition was twisted and warped... disfigured under the truth of what Shinra had done and would do to ensure their perpetuity. He didn't want any part in that...it wasn't who he was.

Going to Hollander had proven to be singularly foolish. 

At first, he'd been surprised, because the man seemed genuinely delighted that he'd discovered the truth about his origins. He spoke reverently of Gast, which ultimately threw Genesis’ guard and led him to open up more than he usually would have. The scientist spent days explaining 'Project G’...useless...mind-numbing… _uninformative_ days. They talked at length in regards to project goals; which were ultimately to create stronger, faster, more intelligent individuals who could be molded to a military purpose. Then Hollander expounded on the genetically superior properties of the mysterious 'J cells’...but he never explained what exactly they were or what they came from. He also grew mysteriously deaf whenever the redhead tried to ask why his project had been abandoned. Instead, he insisted that Genesis was a _total success_ , and that nobody had had any clue what they were talking about at that stage in Shinra's development anyways. 

...Yeah, _okay._

Finally, when he'd spent nearly two weeks cooped up in the Science Department with nothing to show for it, he got lucky. Or, rather, Hollander revealed he was completely tail over teakettle. Their conversation began with pleasantries, but quickly devolved into wild speculation on the Dr’s part. Most of it centered around Hojo, who was definitely evil, but Genesis seriously doubted the man had an army of two hundred Sephiroths stored in sublevel holding chambers under HQ. Because-inevitably-that was Hojo effectively ending the entire human race with a lot of very attractive, traumatized, angry men weilding pointy swords.  
This continued on into the proposition of cloning Genesis to create an army that would storm the Executive building. And hey, the world could use a lot more redheaded, foul-mouthed, and gorgeous people but he wasn't quite that desperate yet. Also, he didn't really like the idea of training himself; according to Hollander clones were dumb as fuck. So, he refused. 

The good doctor didn't like that.

Hollander went on to threaten his family, his position, and his life. This didn't have much of an effect, so he threatened Angeal and Sephiroth. Specifically, he threatened to kill his fellow Commander and turn the General over to Hojo. The recollection of pressing the man up against a lab console with Rapier against his throat was a moment he would forever cherish. Unfortunately, Hollander laughed in his face, told him to do it, and then asked him how he was going to explain it away. He extrapolated on the fact that his _'alien cells’_ obviously brought him one watt short of a unit of power. _This_ had caught the redhead’s attention. Genesis had done everything in his power to get Hollander to tell him more...things he wasn't necessarily proud of; violent things. Then, when he was unsuccessful the first day, he came back the next and tried again. The Scientist didn't budge, and the redhead quickly exhausted his options. He was a SOLDIER, but he wasn't an interrogator. That was Turk territory and Genesis wasn't around them enough to pick up on their methods.

Unfortunately, his failure still left him with the truth that failing to cooperate with Hollander could have serious repercussions. The man was now fully knowledgeable of the extent of _his_ knowledge...which left him in a very difficult position. The Commander could spout threats pertaining to his livelihood and then walk away, but he doubted that would be a sufficient deterrent. He now knew that Hollander wanted to overthrow Shinra. Someone with knowledge like that was too dangerous to keep around. He could go to the Brass with it, but he didn't have any proof, and they would want to know how he'd gotten such information in the first place. Hollander wasn't as popular with the President because his experiments were written off as 'failures’, but that didn't mean no one would rise to his defense if it meant saving the company's reputation. He briefly considered the Turks, but it was hard to tell where their loyalties lay. And while they might rally to defend their own, they certainly wouldn't bend over backwards to help him if it didn't work in their favor. 

Genesis compromised.

He offered Hollander access to his DNA to make his 'army’, but made it clear that he wanted no part in it, and would deny knowledge of it should the scientist be discovered. In exchange, he wanted information every time he visited the labs. This Hollander agreed to with an exuberance that made him nervous, but he didn't have any other options. That day, he learned that the 'J’ in 'Project J’ stood for 'Jenova.’ Exhausted, overwhelmed with his upcoming mission to Wutai and the events of the past two weeks, he'd left after making an extraction appointment a week from the day. 

In the midst of all of it, he'd let his time with Sephiroth stretch thin...until it was nonexistent. A part of him felt guilty; he knew what it was like to be abandoned, but he also knew how important his task was. Besides, wasn't it _time_ for the General to take the initiative for once? Sometimes it was draining to be the only one making emotional headway. They were SOLDIERs first and foremost, and while the redhead didn't know if he was going to be a SOLDIER for much longer, he did know that the amount of work piling up was going to drive him into an early grave if he didn't start managing his time better. Still, as the days wore on and his frustration with Hollander mounted, the Commander began to feel more and more anxious the longer he was away from his partner. Equitive reciprocation aside; Sephiroth was _bad_ at picking up the ball... emotionally anyway. On top of that, the man was trying to quit drinking without entering a program. That was tough. Coupled with a veritable blizzard of paperwork and the stress of the war, the General was probably sitting in his apartment every night wondering if Genesis had given up on him. The thought was nearly enough to drive the older man out of he Science Division while he was questioning Hollander, but he saved it for the next day.

When Sephiroth didn't answer his messages, his first reaction was blind rage. He’d stormed through the executive offices, brushing past the silver-haired SOLDIER's smarmy secretary and throwing open the door to the man’s office to find it-empty. He'd about-faced; hanging onto his anger, plowing out of the office complex to ascend to the President's floor in a cloud of righteous indignation…only to find his apartment empty too. This forced him to reevaluate; because while Sephiroth could be an asshole, he was not a sneaky asshole, and he certainly wasn't the type to run around dodging people if he didn't want to talk to them. He was just as capable of pinning them up on the wall like a butterfly and going about his daily business. A quick check of surveillance revealed the General wasn't in the VR room or the cafeteria, and he wasn't postulating for the President or bemoaning paperwork with Lazard. 

When Genesis found Masamune, a few things clicked. One was that the younger man was still in the building, because he'd rather be drawn and quartered than leave his sword behind. Another was that he wasn't anywhere that his decorative presence demanded weaponry; which only left the Science Division. Upon this realization, the redhead was struck with the wild urge to firaga through the floors separating him from Hojo, but he restrained himself. Instead, he kicked over the coffee table, sat down, and wrote a death threat to the man currently being examined below him. He then composed a heated, overwrought missive to Angeal informing him that Sephiroth was probably being tortured as he spoke and _fuck him_ for being a pansy and turning tail on something that he and the General had dealt with for an extended period of time. And then he waited. 

...And waited, and waited...

When the elevator chimed, Genesis had practically face planted into the front door in his haste to get into the hall. He then had the privilege of watching the lift doors close on the bloody mess that was the man of the hour. It had taken every ounce of his strength and focus to conjure a strong enough Curaga. Realistically, it wasn't a Curaga at all, but some sort of life-essence infused Phoenix Down-Curaga that healed and revived simultaneously. Because really, Sephiroth was clinically dead for at least five minutes. He had absolutely no idea how he did it, only that the General's eyes turned that weird, evil purple before clearing again and he'd had a feeling of possessiveness that was all-encompassing. When the younger man had let out that first gasp of air he'd wanted to knock him unconscious for scaring him so much. Instead he'd collapsed into a puddle for a while before they'd both mutually agreed to stop lying around in a broken elevator. The culmination of the previous events had led him there, staring blankly at the paper towel rack before realizing it was empty. The sink was still running and he hastily reached over to switch it off. 

And _then_ there was this bit about his sister, Aerith. How Sephiroth had managed to worm that piece of information out of the jaws of death escaped him. Okay...maybe it didn't, but it still was pretty incredible. Genesis didn't allow himself to hope, because anything _anyone_ conjured up via near death experience was highly unreliable...but this was Sephiroth and he just couldn't see Sephiroth dying delusionally. Plus after his experience with the 'death materia’...he just had a greater respect for the ephemeral overall. That wasn't to say he _liked_ it, but he respected it. He was beginning to think the corporeal would play a large part in his future, but to what extent he wasn't entirely sure. 

There was the soft whisper of bare feet on tile, and Genesis turned to watch Sephiroth enter the kitchen. The General wore his usual pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt; damp silver hair bundled over one shoulder as he leaned against the kitchen counter, green eyes observing him warily. The red-headed SOLDIER echoed his movements, letting his gaze trail from emerald irises to that familiar cerise mouth. Yellowed bruises were rapidly fading on his hands and arms; indicative of successful mako reabsorption. The only reminders of the horrors of the hour before were the weariness in his posture and a pinkish tint to a couple strands of hair that had been heavily saturated with blood. Genesis wanted to be angry with him, he really did. After all, the man had basically given himself to Hojo on a silver platter after what would have been a routine check-up. He’d apologized, yes, but what annoyed him was that at no point had Sephiroth considered how everything he did could affect him. The redhead narrowed his eyes. Or maybe he had, and he’d just assumed Genesis had given up on him indefinitely. Which, really, was so ridiculous, but coming from someone with the General’s history...it wasn’t that far-fetched. 

He couldn’t really be mad at that. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the younger man beat him to it. 

“Can we just...not talk?” Sephiroth must have noticed the iota of offense that traversed his features at his statement, because he continued hastily. Stepping forward, he let his palms trail up the underside of the redhead’s forearms, grasping his elbows lightly. “I’m not angry with you, and I appreciate everything you have to say…” Genesis raised an eyebrow and silver-haired SOLDIER's lips quirked into a soft smile. _“Most_ of the time.” One hand lifted to cup his cheek-swept forward to tangle in his hair-his arm lowering ‘till it snaked around his waist to pull him close. “I made a mistake” he murmured; hesitant, soft against his temple. “Let me make it up to you in the way I know how.” 

Goddess, it was _hard_ to give over that modicum of control. And maybe this had been their issue-Genesis thought vaguely, staring into pools of veridian-that he’d always taken it upon himself to manage everything they did. Sephiroth was new to relationships, but he was not new to leadership. If the redhead was feeling entirely truthful, the General had more experience with control than he did. And with the older man directing-however inadvertently-every miniscule aspect of their romance, it was no wonder Sephiroth feared abandonment. He’d been placed in a submissive position, and while he might not mind it, it left him in a poor place mentally. Genesis liked to hold the reigns, had always done so in the numerous flings he’d participated in over the course of his life. It didn’t matter if he was on the bottom; somehow, he’d always managed to steer things in his favor. In a relationship-a _committed_ relationship-that wasn’t going to work. Especially in a relationship with a hybrid human-being who had been genetically engineered to be physically dominant. Sephiroth _needed_ to know they were on equal footing, or he would continue to put himself in self-deprecating and life-threatening-situations because he was unable to fully comprehend his importance.

And so it was with a monumental effort that Genesis let go of the tension suffusing his limbs; leaning into the touch and closing his eyes as he lifted a hand to tangle it in endless strands of platinum hair. With the other, he splayed tentative fingers across Sephiroth’s jaw; sweeping his thumb up a sculpted cheek and down the dignified slope of his nose to drag over parted lips. Still, the General hesitated, and he lifted heavy lids to meet his gaze; communicating his acquiescence as he just-slightly bared his neck; letting the fringe of his hair shift to one side. The kiss that passed between them was sweeter than he’d have liked. Genesis longed for something aggressive-punishing-and suffused with an aching drag of violent satisfaction. A part of him was still upset, but he knew that transferring that anger to what they were going to do would render its effect null and void. So he gave himself to the simplicity of it, to the exchange of breath and body...and the fluttering, anxious feeling of abandonment that had begun to take root in his stomach. 

“If you ever do that again, we’re done” he murmured against Sephiroth’s mouth. 

For a moment, it seemed as if that might be enough to end the exchange before it began. The General tensed, limbs shot through with apparent anxiety. The older man didn’t rise to the opportunity to comfort him, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Not in his current position, not with what he wanted this to be. So it came as a relief, when that mouth returned, when a warm tongue snaked between his lips to tangle with his own. Genesis exhaled through his nose, opening himself to the invasion as he was gently rotated; pressed back against the counter as the looming weight of the man before him settled into every nook and cranny of his physicality. _This_ he knew, this he could work with for now. The feeling of being dominated was not _avant garde_ to him, he could give himself to it without fear of disintegration. 

The tenderness-however-was an entirely different story.

Sephiroth always kissed in relative symbiosis to his temperament. Right now, his mouth was an apology. A beautiful, _aching_ apology that had the redhead flushing from the tips of his ears to his toes but an apology nonetheless. Genesis did not like ‘sorrys’, they weren’t an integral part of his makeup and he didn’t need them, but he did need this. So when dexterous fingers moved to divest him of his armor he didn’t resist, didn’t insist on taking the lead and scattering his clothes hither and yon to be picked up at a later date. The General moved slowly; a clasp here, a buckle there...pausing in between to leave small, glowing hickeys that faded as quickly as they formed over his jaw and neck. The redhead’s vambraces fell to the floor but he heard it only vaguely, one leg hitched over the contour of a powerful waist as he shuddered under the ministrations of a dextrous tongue. The hand in his hair abandoned its post to tug gently at his earring, and the gasp that caught at the back of his throat was wholly involuntary...borne half out of surprise and the other delight. 

By the time his armor was gone Genesis was shivering with need; halfway seated on the linoleum countertop as his mouth was plundered mercilessly. Long, strong fingers clutched his sides in a grip that was both possessive and worshipful; squeezing lightly before they disappeared to rid him of his boots. They dropped to the ground with a soft _***thump***_ and then those hands were back and there was a hard length grinding into the apex were groin met thigh. The redhead responded eagerly, throwing his head back and undulating into the movement, swallowing as he stared blearily at the popcorn ceiling before his mouth was captured once more. Unable to help himself, he let his hands wander; over the strong definition of well-worked abdominal muscles under cotton to the waistline of those ugly sweatpants that he was _absolutely_ going to throw away once he got the opportunity. When his fingers closed around the impressive outline of Sephiroth’s erection the man groaned, but Genesis quickly diverted his attention elsewhere, squeezing perfunctorily before lifting his other leg to arch into the other man, communicating his desires through movement. 

They were forced to separate to make their way to the bedroom; though they made several stops against various surfaces along the way. The redhead was fairly certain they were going to have to replace a floor lamp in the hallway...or not, because it was a boring lamp. He’d had his share of rough and tumble affairs in various positions, but there was something incredibly exciting about being pressed up against the wall by a body with equal-to-more strength than his. That crushing, breathless weight that drove the very air from his lungs as he writhed in ecstasy was a new kind of incredible. With other lovers, the redhead was forced to be conscious of their weaknesses, mako made it very easy to lose control and there was always an edge of anxiety to his countless trysts. Here, he could be as wanton and rough as he wanted and Sephiroth wouldn’t even have a scratch. 

Okay, maybe a few, but it was still really nice.

By the time his knees hit the edge of the mattress Genesis was quite thoroughly naked. His body was a thrumming, vibrating mess of arousal and he fell back without resistance; rotating slightly to crawl up to the head before turning back in time to see Sephiroth lose his sweatpants. Parting his thighs, the redhead stroked himself lazily; watching as that wondrous waterfall of silver was briefly tangled over the girth of a magnificent cock before it was impatiently brushed away. Now that he was looking, he could see the subtle differences in the younger man’s physicality. Sephiroth didn’t have a wealth of hair in that area, like some. Instead his outward appearance gave off the impression of painstaking grooming; familiar silver following the contour of his groin in a fine dusting of strands before disappearing. Genesis was trimmed-of course, he wasn’t a caveman-but a clean cut like that took hours and he couldn’t see the General being the type to spend hours fussing over his family jewels with a pair of scissors and a straightedge. Then the younger man was climbing over him; the welcome warmth of his weight settling between his thighs and suddenly it didn’t matter very much anymore. 

Blunt fingernails scraped against his left palm, scattering sparks from wrist to interphalangeal joint before clasping hard and drawing his arm upwards; above his head. The next kiss was long, hard, _deep_...and Genesis’ back bowed under the ardour of it; thighs squeezing the musculature of a powerful waist as their erections were brought flush against each other, a coagulation of hard-smooth flesh and preejaculate. Sephiroth’s inhale was broken upon contact; the rush of breath becoming ragged and stuttered. Sliding his palm up a smooth expanse of back, the redhead let tongue and teeth meet shoulder, biting down lightly and revelling in the strangled groan he received in response. The thrust of the younger man’s hips grew hard and fast and he let his free hand drop down to bring their actions to a halt; cerulean meeting chartreuse as the pause allowed them to bring themselves back from the edge. Sephiroth's cheeks were slightly flushed, the look in his eyes somewhat vacant as he dropped his head to suck at a pebbled nipple. Genesis bit his lip and groaned his approval, arching slightly before grasping a long rope of silver hair to get the General’s attention. 

“Fuck me” he murmured, lifting his head to murmur the supplication against swollen lips.

For a moment, it seemed as if the younger man was uncertain. Insecurity flashed in his gaze-and _damn_ if Genesis did not have _time for that_ -and then it disappeared. Sephiroth swooped down to catch the redhead’s bottom lip, sucking lightly as he watched the him through heavy lids. Then, he pulled away. 

“We need…?”

He cocked his head and the Commander huffed impatiently. 

“Drawer. To the left, two down. It's been there for a month.”

Genesis allowed himself to appreciate the view of the General's ass as he crawled off him to fumble with the bedside table. Because how could you _not??_ He had the most beautiful, most manly ass he had ever laid eyes on. Here, he could see the soft petals of Sephiroth's sex; tight, roseate and faintly slick. He wanted to roll over and mold his face into his thighs...but that wasn't what he was there for. There was time for that later, when he was patient enough to explore sensitively. Instead, he waited, fisting his erection while the ache in his belly became almost unbearable. Finally, the silver-haired man appeared to find what he was looking for; pulling a long, thin tube out of the drawer and turning to crawl back over his redheaded partner. The lube was forgotten for a while as they tangled together again in a web of arms and legs; licking into the soft cavern of a mouth before retreating to flick teasingly against the prurient pout of a lower lip. 

“You're going to have to walk me through this” Sephiroth muttered, fumbling in the sheets with one hand, the soft ***pop*** of a cap an errant, dismissable noise. 

Struggling to clear his mind-impatient in his now almost painful arousal-Genesis nearly grabbed the lube in order to do it himself. Only the nervous anticipation in the younger man’s eyes held him back. Taking a deep breath, the redhead attempted to dispel the roiling cloud of lust that was nearly making him drool into the duvet. Because _fuck_ it had been a _long time._

“Start slow” he mumbled, stealing the lube away and snatching at Sephiroth's forefinger; applying a generous amount before slapping his hand downwards. “Circles-” his mouth hung open stupidly for a moment as the man on top of him twisted his hips. _”Stop that!_ Genesis hissed. “Or I'm going to jizz all over you” he added when Sephiroth had the audacity to look _wounded._ “I'll let you know when you can go further.” He shifted. “Normally I go a lot faster than this but we'll keep a pace so you can get an...an idea.”

The General still looked uncertain. 

“Is this... sanitary?”

The redhead groaned. 

“Now you're worried about this?!” he snarled, flinching slightly as cold digits dug into his ass cheeks. “I'm clean, if that's what you're harping about, but I can get a condom. If you're worried about…” he struggled for a moment. “ _Cleanliness,_ dude, I know what I'm doing so will you please get on with it?! I wanted your dick in my ass like ten years ago.”

A smirk that was entirely too smug graced those aquiline features, and Genesis exhaled in a rush as a cool finger circled his entrance; applying pressure in soft touches before retreating again.

“Ten years?” Sephiroth murmured, mouthing his earlobe. “That's a long time.”

“I'm going to punch you” the redhead said flatly. The finger pushed in slightly and he hissed with gratification. “ _Yesss,_ that's good…”

The younger man played with him for a long time. Looking back on the minutes-hours?-leading up to his original goal for this...encounter, all Genesis remembered was the swirling heat, the swell and retreat of arousal and the cool slide of dexterous digits in and around the rim of his ass. He remembered the incoherent, impatient noises that fell from his lips as a pins-and-needles-esque warmth exuded from the top of his head to his shaking thighs. Of all the recollections given to him, the greatest would be the burn of those mako-infused eyes; like electrified emeralds blazing out of irises suffused with lust. Sephiroth watched him with an intensity that seemed to burn into his very _soul_ , and by the time the younger man pulled away to hunt for the lube he feared he'd gone permanently cross-eyed. 

Two fingers and he very nearly came. _That would have been embarrassing._ Long, warm and slicked with lube; caressing him in a way that was wholly unfamiliar. Genesis was used to haste...to fumbling in the dark and pressing his face into pillows; enduring the blackness of a rough beginning to barrel towards a red-hot, shuddering climax that left him empty and exhausted. Now he was being undone from the inside out and it was _terrifying_ to consider what the culmination of this would do to him. Those beautiful fingers shifted, crooked slightly, pressed upwards into his prostate and the noise that exploded from the back of his throat was nearly animal. Genesis swallowed convulsively and tried to clear his vision, which had gone warm and rather fuzzy around the edges. Sephiroth bent his head again to capture his lips, twisted his wrist-a sharp undulating motion-and the redhead groaned into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering as his body responded mindlessly; hips jerking as he attempted to spread himself wide. 

Genesis didn't have the patience for more than three fingers. Ten minutes in and the noises coming from his mouth were enough to give him a full-faced blush; Sephiroth was looking at him like he wanted to _eat_ him, and the ravenous desire that had started out slow and temperate was now a full-on forest fire. 

“Stop” he gasped, catching the younger man’s wrist and nudging it away. Keeping hold of the offending hand, the redhead urged the General back down to him; bending one leg at the knee and wrapping it around the silver-haired man’s waist. Snaking his arm between them, the redhead tilted his hips accordingly and guided Sephiroth's erection to his entrance...shivering as he mentally and physically acknowledged his size. _“Hurry up.”_

And-of course-it ended up being the one and only time during the whole encounter that Sephiroth didn't listen to him

Instead, the General grasped his chin, forcing him to refocus front and center. Shivering, the redhead was just barely able to do so. 

“I need your consent” Sephiroth said quietly. 

And with that Genesis melted into an _'awww’_ -affiliated slurry of goo, because of course he did. Firmly, calmly, the Commander nodded. And then Sephiroth moved. He went slow; inch by inch, that heavy, pulsating length a gradual and gentle intrusion into his body. It hurt-because anything _that_ big going into your ass was going to hurt-but not half as much as Genesis had expected it to. Equally prominent was the feeling of gratification, on both a physical and emotional scale. He couldn't think of any word to describe it but _right_... everything about this was right. From the quivering tension between them, to the intermingling scent of their arousal. By the time the younger man was fully seated within him, he was trembling. Sephiroth's shoulders shook with the visible effort of his restraint, and the long, impatient jerks of his cock were turning Genesis inside out. The redhead didn't bother telling him to move. Instead, he jerked his hips impatiently, throwing his head back and grasping the duvet with anticipatory fingers.

The first thrust was full-bodied, passionate, and deep. Genesis could feel the ripple of muscle in Sephiroth's flanks as he moved; like the surge of sea against shore. The breath was driven from his lungs as he rose to meet him, that coil of tightly-wound yet quiet abandon loosening slightly as a jolt of pleasure-pain rocketed up from the base of his spine. Another thrust and the moan he'd held in initially burst forth, heat blooming across his cheeks as his body gave itself to the sensation. Sephiroth's breath hitched next to his ear and the silver-haired man steadied himself with one hand as the other rose up to cup the back of Genesis’ head; cheek against cheek as he drove forward again. The leg the redhead had kept mostly lax shuddered before the knee was drawn up in a reflexive movement; foot flat against the coverlet as the blue-eyed SOLDIER arched and than bore down against every inch of that glorious length. His prostate was hit and white-hot light burst behind his eyes; like the slow-dying throes of a doomed star. 

Gradually, Sephiroth's movements became less cautious and more purpose-driven. The younger man was painfully cognizant of how to move in a way that would make Genesis _lose his fucking mind._ He drew it out, fast to slow, shallow and rough...at some point the redhead realized the low, inchoate wailing noise was coming from his own mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Because this was _so good_ and he hadn't realized how much he needed it until he was deep within the throes of it. Gathering what little was left of his sanity, the Commander yanked on a thread of platinum hair until the man above him acquiesced to a long, heavy kiss that had his toes curling. The hand at the base of his skull reverted it's attentions; shoving the redhead flat and hiking a leg up over his shoulder. Again Sephiroth thrust and this time he hit that sweet spot full on and Genesis clutched uselessly at a broad expanse of back as his mouth fell open; his head twisting back and forth against the pillows as pleasure found wings and soared into the upper stratosphere of his psyche. 

The apex of his arousal startled Genesis; he didn't usually come to climax so fast but now he was barreling towards it like a freight train gone off the rails. He felt _full_ and overwhelmingly hot, like someone had thrown a happy blanket over him on a summer’s day and left him to languish. The General's presence; around him, against him, _in_ him was intimate in a way that was totally foreign but completely wanted. From the heated, shaky exhalation of breath over his lips, to the focused, worshipful expression that was drinking him in like he was the most beautiful creature in existence. The crush of Sephiroth's pelvis against his thighs was a desirous nearness, the slide of endless moonlight-colored hair over his body left waves of shivering satisfaction in its wake. Lips closed over his nipple once more and he mewled, letting his head loll to the side as orgasm rushed up to meet him. Seeming to sense his impending demise, his partner slowed; began a series of long, hard, deep thrusts that had him clenching desperately. 

“I'm-!”

Genesis’ brain checked out of its usual room. 

Dimly, the redhead was aware of the streaks of heat against his belly indicative of release, but that was nothing compared to the sensation. Every nerve in his body lit up, charged with the finality of the moment. Low, rolling throbs of fire spread from his groin to shiver through his physicality; brought sharp on the tip of his tongue before dancing inwards to coil in his chest. The cry that left his lips was half-pleasure, half-incredulity. The sound was swallowed by soft lips as a wash of warmth inside him was indicative of Sephiroth's climax. The man in question uttered his name in a low, winded exhalation; driving deep before his hips jerked mindlessly, hands coming up to crush Genesis to him as he rode the crest of his own climax. Caught up in a tide of aftershocks, the redhead couldn't find it in himself to pull away. Instead, he let his left hand trail over the beautiful curve of the younger man’s ass to stroke the soft parting of flesh between his thighs, feeling secretly delighted when his fingers came back drenched. Sephiroth jerked slightly at the touch, more than likely oversensitive. 

Only when the Commander shifted-a little impatiently-did the green-eyed SOLDIER pull out; keeping the bulk of his weight on top of him as he nuzzled affectionately at the slope of his neck. Genesis couldn't really bring himself to the point where he could think straight; his body was a mess of liquid satisfaction bordering on euphoria. Soft echoes of receding arousal rolled up and down his spine and a half-hearted _'mgh’_ fell from his lips as Sephiroth trailed lazy kisses from the contour of his jaw to his lips and back again. 

“Was it okay?”

The vulnerability in the General's voice was enough for the red-headed SOLDIER to attempt to think up a somewhat lucid response. Because slurring something sleepy and satisfied didn't really do it justice. It was what he _wanted_ to do, yes, because right now he was exhausted and sated and sleep sounded great...but he knew it wouldn't go over well. Stretching, relishing the thoroughly used feeling of every muscle in his body, Genesis smiled fondly at the obviously anxious man whose fingers were rubbing soothing circles into his thigh. 

“I won't be able to walk for a while” he said dryly. “That's a good thing” he added hastily when Sephiroth looked concerned. Sighing, he levered himself up on one elbow, threading his fingers through silver locks. “It was great” he murmured. “Stop underestimating yourself.”

He didn't miss the way the younger man relaxed; the subtle tension in his shoulders melting away as he shifted somewhat in the cradle of Genesis’ hips. Long fingers stroked his side as the green-eyed SOLDIER mouthed distractedly at his collar bone, apparently still caught up in the intimacy of the hours before. Normally, Genesis wasn't a snuggler... especially when he was bottoming; it made him feel open and vulnerable. But Sephiroth's touch was appreciative and reverent, not possessive and deprecating like so many others. He could relax into him without feeling like he was giving away some vital piece of himself. And yea, the dampness currently soaking its way into the mattress was a little gross, but it wasn't so off-putting that he felt the need to move away. Instead, he let his head fall back into the pillows; closing his eyes and opening his mouth to receive the younger man’s lips with a boneless gratuity. 

Eventually, when Genesis was teetering dangerously on the edges of unconsciousness, Sephiroth moved away and got out of bed. The redhead watched through heavy lids as the General disappeared into the bathroom only to return with a washcloth and towel. As cool, careful fingers grasped his thigh to maneuver him into a more accessible position, he reflected that was was something he _absolutely_ would not have allowed with anyone else. Cleaning was probably more intimate than cuddling, and he'd always been perfectly content with rolling out of bed and going home to shower. The thought was almost enough to rouse him into full-alertness, but Sephiroth was done almost as quickly as he'd begun; retreating again only to crawl back up the duvet. Gently, he coaxed the older man onto his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and burying his nose in the redhead's hair. 

_”Mmm_ love you” Genesis garbled, pressing his cheek into the sheets and closing his eyes. “But don't do that shit again.”

A soft, deep chuckle tickled at the edges of his rapidly receding consciousness. Warm lips brushed over his temple, scarlet brows pulled together as the Commander's mouth formed semi-irritated frown; because he was trying to _sleep_ , dammit. 

“This isn't exactly what I'd call a punishment” Sephiroth replied, sliding one leg through his. 

Genesis smacked his arm.

“Notta punish’ment” he grumbled, cracking his eyelids open. “Lesson, you're m’portant too.”

The soft, gratified exhale against his neck was one of profound affection. 

“Thank you.”

Already on the apex of his dreams, the redhead was barely able to hear him. But even in the final, sweeping throes of consciousness before sleep...Genesis smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Hookay, I hope that lived up to your expectations. And yes, Genesis was always going to be the first one to bottom. Honestly, the last chapter was kind of _meh_ , mostly because I really shouldn't write when I'm sick. But this has been in the cards for a while, and it felt like the right time. I also wanted to re-establish the sort of...equal scale between Genesis and Sephiroth. 
> 
> Also, Aerith as Genesis' sister; I had to bumb up at groups to get it to work within this timeline, because Ilfana did not survive very long after Shinra got hold of her. Which is sad, but unfortunately simply an aspect of what I'm aiming for here. Thoughts?
> 
> I actually enjoyed writing this, and normally I am somewhat squicky for sex scenes, mostly because it gets hard to write new ones in different ways, but I think to some extent this excerpt is separate from other scenes I have written. I've gone over it several times for typos and hopefully it presents itself as throughly fleshed out. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, and we will get back to the main plot in the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**
> 
> P.s. _'bumb up at groups'_ should be _'bump up some age groups'_ but I'm leaving it there because honestly I laughed my ass off at it for no reason other than that I'm an idiot.


	18. Chapter 18

“Your objectives are straightforward; each of you will be expected to perform to the standard of your rank or higher if possible.”

Sephiroth watched with a derisive expression as Heidegger slumped somewhat in his seat, his face downcast. It was no secret the man was opposed to the entirety of the Wutai affair. Around them, officiates of the war council looked on solemnly as Scarlet addressed the trio of FIRSTs. Genesis sat to his right; his posture casual and compliant, arms folded in his lap as he regarded the woman before them. Angeal sat on the opposite side of the table next to Zack, refusing to even-so-much as glance towards them. Lazard was settled at the head and flanked by Tseng and Reno, who kept shooting them suggestive winks…Reeve mirrored his position on the opposite side, looking tense and discontent. The President was conspicuously absent, and there were rumors circulating regarding unrest with his son. The group was seated in a conference room outside of Administration, and the low hum of everyday office activity was a continuous muted backdrop to their conversation. Watching as Tseng leaned forward to switch off the tape recorder, the silver-haired SOLDIER sat back and idly glanced out the window.

He was angry with Angeal.

Sephiroth nodded at Scarlet as she exited the room. Briefly, he turned his attention to Genesis, who had pulled out a notepad and was scribbling something down. Looking away, he fiddled with Masamune's hilt. It wasn't fair, he knew; but a part of him was deeply resentful of the way it hurt the Commander. To the outside observer it wouldn't be obvious, but the redhead was tense-had been since they'd walked into the conference room-and his expression held just the smallest iota of panic. It wasn't his place to say anything, so he didn't, but the amount of discipline required for him to refrain was unusually staggering.

There was a scrape of chairs as the majority of the group began to rise and disperse. Sephiroth wasn't emotionally opinionated; especially when the issue was out of his hands, but it was incredibly difficult to sit across the table from someone who was causing his partner emotional pain simply by _not talking._ Angeal was getting up as well, and the General narrowed his eyes as their gazes met briefly across the table, turning away before he could observe any kind of reciprocal response. Neither did he react when the dark-haired SOLDIER stood and made his way to the door, stopping only to wait for Zack, who had echoed his movements but stopped to pull out his communicator. A hand on his arm gave Sephiroth pause in regards to his peripheral observation, and the green-eyed SOLDIER tilted his head as Genesis leaned close to mutter in his ear.

“I've got an idea.”

The General frowned.

“In regards to…?”

“In regards to everything. You going back to the office after this?”

Sephiroth nodded.

“...I have to. I'm swamped with all this” he flicked an errant lock of hair over his shoulder. “I don't know if we'll be able to meet tonight. This... development is only going to add to the load.”

The redhead _'hmm’ed’_ contemplatively.

“Well if you have the time, come down to mine. I'm pretty confident about this one.”

The fingers resting on his forearm squeezed lightly before letting go. Unable to help the shadow of a smile that pulled his left lip upwards, Sephiroth nodded; watching as the older man rose and sailed past Angeal without so much as a glance, taking his sticky note with him. For a moment, it seemed as if his fellow Commander was going to say something, but the moment was lost when Tseng re-entered the room and looked pointedly at Sephiroth, who held back a resigned sigh and stood, raising an eyebrow.

“Lazard wants to see you” the Turk replied by way of answer.

Inclining his head, the silver-haired SOLDIER followed the jacketed agent into the hall, nodding as Zack performed his customarily enthusiastic salute. When they were out of earshot, Tseng continued.

“You're heading this mission with your fellow FIRSTS” he remarked, sidestepping to avoid an elderly account carrying stacks of finance reports. “If you can't get along, they're going to start pulling you off.” He cocked his head. “Specifically, they're going to pull Genesis off.”

The General raised an eyebrow.

“Why just Genesis? Surely Commander Hewley is equally culpable. And what makes you think I can change his mind?”

They had stopped in front of Lazard's office, the door to which was tightly shut. Tseng looked bored.

“Because Genesis can't compartmentalize like Hewley; a fact you are fully aware of. And we're fully aware of the nature of your relationship. If anyone can get him to see reason, it's you.” He raised a hand as Sephiroth opened his mouth to protest. “I've said my part, Lazard will likely say more. Just be aware that your camaraderie defines the way your men choose to act. You know as well as I do that operation under negative leadership leads to mistakes. Mistakes that cost lives. Shinra is not willing to let things go that far.”

He stopped speaking as the door to the Director’s office swung open, revealing Lazard. The blonde gave both of them a hairy eyebrow but otherwise said nothing, stepping back and gesturing wordlessly for Sephiroth to enter.

“General, Director” Tseng murmured, inclining his head. “Good day.”

It turned out that the Turk had been right...to a point. Lazard seemed to think Genesis was planning something that went against company policy, and that the only person to whom he'd confided was Angeal; thus the divide in their friendship. He gave Sephiroth orders to observe both men in regards to their interactions with each other, in order to attempt to pry information from them without their knowledge. As backhanded as the directive was, the silver-haired man's primary concern centered on how Administration had come to such a conclusion in the first place. There was only one person-as far as he knew-who had good reason to throw Genesis under the bus. Hollander had leverage; but he was equally-if not more-handicapped by his desire to create clones of the Commander to usurp Shinra. The scientist’s swift acquiescence to his partner's demands had worried him; now, it alarmed him...because it indicated that Hollander had more pieces to play than Genesis did. Enough that he felt comfortable making a risky, accusatory move against him.

It left him on tenterhooks; because telling Genesis could result in rash actions. Neither of them needed that. The Turks knew too much, and their benevolence was anchored on how they behaved. Tseng might have been gracious enough to warn them, but Veld would have no qualms about reporting them. However, _withholding_ such information would damage their relationship should Genesis find out. The redhead’s pool of people he could trust was nearly non-existent; as far as Sephiroth knew, he was the only one who remained. He couldn't keep this to himself simply for the sake of apprehension, it wasn't honorable...and if he were to take it a step further, he would say it was cowardly. As heavily as he valued protocol, as much as he took pride in his position, Genesis was more than that; _had_ been more than that for a long time.

“Hey!”

Blinking, the General pulled himself out of his thoughts to find himself standing in the middle of Administration staring blankly at a notice board peppered with announcements pertaining to an upcoming charity ball. Several office grunts were eyeing him warily from their cubicles. Looking to his left, Sephiroth tilted his head questioningly at Cadet Fair, who was looking somewhat uncomfortable and a little distracted.

“...Can I help you Zackary?”

Blue eyes narrowed.

“Ugh, can you like _not_ call me that? My gran calls me that and I'm sorry but you're not gran material.” Angeal's charge paled somewhat as he recognized the informality of his address. “ _Sir_ ” he spluttered. When the General continued to look stony he grew defensive. “Well look, I'm sorry but you're not hauling any knitting you've never given me cookies.”

“Can I _help_ you, Cadet?” Sephiroth deadpanned.

The younger man fidgeted and the silver-haired SOLDIER briefly wondered how Angeal put up with him on a daily basis.

“Well, um, it's about Angeal” he muttered, lowering his voice. “He's been... really stressed out. We went on a mission and he pushed me really hard. Not that I'm complaining!-” he added as the General's expression morphed into one of disgust. “-I _like_ a good challenge! But 'Geal, he's always kind of...y’know” he grimaced and jerked his head.

“No…” Sephiroth said slowly. “...I don't _'know’_ ”

Zack sighed exasperatedly.

“Man, you know, he's always sort of babied me. But it was brutal this time, and he was really withdrawn. When we got back, I confronted him about it and he knocked me off the plate!”

Against his will, the older man felt his eyebrows raise in disbelief.

“'Off the plate?’” he echoed flatly. “Into the slums?”

The dark-haired SOLDIER's shoulders slumped.

“Well...it was kinda more _through_ the plate” he admitted, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “But for him to lose it like that... it's not him.” He shrugged. “I met a nice girl there though...fell through her ceiling really. Her name's Aerith.” He appeared to collect himself. “Sorry, rambling.”

Sephiroth attempted to quell the surge of excitement that rose in his chest.

“Where exactly was this?” he asked, turning his gaze back to the board and feigning nonchalance. “The fall I mean.”

He watched as the Cadet frowned, considering his question.

“Uhhh, near the outer rim? East of here. We fought. You can't miss it.” Blue eyes grew pleading. “You can't report this, it'll be the end of him.”

“I wasn't going to” the green-eyed SOLDIER said mildly, running his fingers down Masamune's hilt. “Is that all?”

He felt rather than saw Zack's frustration.

_“What’s wrong with Angeal??”_

The General hesitated, caught between decorum and the truth that was a trainee genuinely concerned for his mentor. Fair’s expression was hopeless, resigned even...and like Genesis, it wasn't a look that was cohesive to his personality.

“...If you want my advice” the older man said slowly. “Then I would encourage you to be present, and to not allow this... difficult time to either affect your training or your friendship. Commander Hewely is human, despite his prowess, and human beings need human presences other than their own.”

The blue-eyed SOLDIER wrinkled his nose.

“You say that like you're a cyborg or something.”

Sephiroth glared.

“Allow me to remind you that my counsel does not allow for your complete egress of proper decorum.”

Zack side-eyed him, a smirk playing across his lips.

“Of course, _sir_. Thank you.”

“Cadet” the General muttered, turning to walk away. As the younger man flailed around in his signature salute, he turned. “For the record, I am perfectly capable of making cookies. Commander Rhapsodos is very fond of them. Good day, _Zackary._ ”

And so he left the younger man gaping soundlessly at his back, in a much better mood than he'd been ten minutes ago.

* * *

 

His good mood lasted for approximately five minutes and twenty-four seconds.

Upon returning to his office, he was immediately accosted by a monstrosity that he furiously nicknamed _'The Waffling Weapons’ Write-Up’_. It was thirty pages long and included systems’ checks and performance graphs so long he had to turn each chart sideways to get an accurate visual picture. This was preceded by a massive, brain-numbing dialogue detailing SOLDIERs assigned to respective bomb squads, their family history, and the likelihood of their survival in combat. Sephiroth tended to put less experienced SOLDIERs at the back of each squad, mostly so they could observe their fellow recruits. This wasn't so inconvenient as it was tedious, by the time he was halfway finished dinner had come and gone and it was teetering close to 2300. Aside from the fact he was starving, there was the gnawing fact he hadn't heard from Genesis all day. This wasn't particularly unusual, but after the events of the morning, it left him stressed and irritable. When a janitor came in to clean his office at 2412, Sephiroth was mildly concerned he'd given the man a heart attack. He kept long hours, but past midnight was stretching it.

By 0111 he was so hungry he briefly entertained the idea of consuming a stack of field reports from a certain Sergeant who had a terrible attitude. He resisted this urge by calling out to a 24-hour diner whose fare was somewhat tolerable; asking that the delivery person leave it with the night guard stationed in the reception area. After placing his order, the General began sorting through the offending reports, hoping to have his desk clear by the time his meal arrived. He was staring blankly at a mid-mission misdemeanor footnote that surely could _not_ be saying a quartet of THIRDS had wrestled a Cactuar into military fatigues when a knock at the office door yanked him out of his incredulous reverie. Without waiting for an invitation, the door swung open to reveal Genesis carrying two bags of takeout and looking far too cheerful given the late-early?-hour.

“I was just coming up to give you a coffee when I ran into Arjen” the redhead remarked, placing a desperately welcome cup of the aforementioned on the lacquered countertop. “He said he was running these up for you so I said I'd do it.”

“Thank you” Sephiroth murmured, wincing as his voice cracked from hours of disuse. The Commander settled into one of the two chairs opposite him and gave him a sympathetic look.

“Need help?”

The younger man shook his head, pulling his meal towards him.

“I'm nearly done.” He hesitated, his gaze wavering towards the positively ludicrous misdemeanor account. Pulling a fork out of its plastic wrapping, he threw the sheaf of paper over at his fellow FIRST. “See if you can make sense of that.”

Frowning, Genesis retrieved the offending item, blue eyes widening as he scanned it. A sharp, derisive laugh spilled from his lips as he did so.

“Oh man, I can't _wait_ for this to go through to the courts” he tapped the edge of the footnote on the corner of the desk. “What were they thinking?”

“Apparently most of them will be out of medical within the week” the General muttered.

“A fucking Cactuar” the Commander chuckled, sounding slightly awed. “Why didn't I think of that?!”

Sephiroth barely managed to suppress an eyeroll, giving the redhead a pointed look before reaching for his coffee.

“You should know that I've been asked to keep an eye on you during the mission.”

Cerise lips curled into something halfway between a smile and a grimace.

“Oh? Do tell.”

By the time he'd finished his account of his meeting with Lazard and Tseng’s prior warning, he half expected Genesis to jump out of his chair and start yelling. Instead, the older man looked contemplative, his gaze distant and thoughtful.

“This would probably be a good time to talk about the idea I've had” he said breezily.

The General narrowed his eyes.

“Surely you don't intend to let this go?”

A red-leather clad hand waved idly.

“I have to. Regardless of what it means or who's tied to it, I don't have any leverage and no way to figure out where Lazard’s suspicions are grounded” the redhead shook his head. “Anyways, I’ve been thinking, what if we _reform_ Shinra?”

The younger man frowned.

“What do you mean?”

His fellow FIRST huffed and blew an errant strand of scarlet hair out of his eyes.

“I _mean_ what if we...get rid of everything that makes the Company a negative entity?”

Sephiroth stared at the man across from him.

“That’s mutiny” he said slowly.

Genesis snorted.

“ _No_ ” he gasped in feigned incredulity. “Really?” When the green-eyed SOLDIER continued to look gobsmacked, he sighed. “Look, I know that Shinra’s regime is successful. It’s made a lot people rich, but even more people have died so those people could rise to the top. That’s wrong. You and I both know for a fact that the Science Division has done human experiments, the President doesn’t give a damn about the public, he just cares about the next continent he wants to usurp. There’s so much of a stigma regarding getting into SOLDIER” the Commander waved an exasperated hand. “‘Glory’, ‘Renown’, _’Honor’_....but what people don’t talk about is how much death we’ve dealt out along the way.”

“I thought you were proud to be a SOLDIER” the General pointed out, unable to help the vein of bitterness that seeped into his tone.

“I _am_ ” Genesis snapped. “You’re not listening! I’m saying we keep SOLDIER, because Gaia knows we have hundreds of good men with good intentions living here, living in service, living a _lie_...but the administration is corrupt from the head down. There’s nothing we can do to salvage it. As much weight as our words carry, we can’t stop thoughtless wars against pacifist countries, we couldn’t save those children, we couldn’t even save ourselves...we were basically bred for this. But I want to give people that choice. I want SOLDIER to be what it advertises itself to be. Not necessarily a military presence, but a presence of safety, of order...the voice of the people, not the iron fist that keeps it in line.”

“And you would put yourself in the seat of power?” the silver-haired man asked cooly.

Hurt shot across those aquiline features, quickly followed by disgust.

“Goddess, you still think of me that way?” the redhead whispered. “Seph, no, that’s not what I want. Honestly, I think the Turks would make an excellent Administration, but they’re blinded by what they follow, and if not by that, the ties that keep them tethered to the Brass.” The older man sat back and shook his head. “No, I want to keep doing what I’m doing. Not necessarily on as murderous a scale; I want to keep leading my men...but for a _good cause_.”

He was conflicted.

Sitting behind his desk, his meal forgotten, Sephiroth had to admit that he was more than conflicted. He was terrified. Genesis’ words made sense; he even understood-to a degree-why he wanted to do this. He had a great respect for Shinra; if not for Administration, for the men he directed in the field, and the success that his efforts had garnered him. He took an immense amount of pride in his work, it was satisfying and fulfilling. At the same time, a part of him acknowledged that such work was done under the smokescreen of ‘progress’, when _progress_ became _corruption_ the pride he so covetously hung on to amounted to nil. He’d known this for a long time, but it was much harder to accept it.

Yet another component of his psyche screamed that this was insubordination...bordering on desertion. A year ago and he’d have drawn Masamune and beheaded the redhead on the spot. Now, with the reality of his origins, with his knowledge of Hojo’s misdeeds and the events of the Sleeping Forest...he couldn’t do that. More prominent than that was the fact that even if he didn’t agree with Genesis...he couldn’t have killed him. Not now. The singular fact that it would destroy him to dispatch the man sitting across from him was horrifying. He’d held him, spent hour upon hour getting to know him and understanding his proclivities and faults. Sephiroth had _made love_ to Genesis and given him the only facet of his existence that had-previously-been owned by no other. In a sense, he had effectively hobbled himself against any sort of deliberate violence against the older man. And yet...even as the conditioned, tortured, and frightened part of him shriveled inside, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Swallowing, the General cleared his throat.

“...And how do you propose we do this?”

Genesis grinned, leaned forward conspiratorially...the graceful arch of his neck a swatch of pale alabaster against crimson.

“Well firstly, I know a little something you don’t know about Rufus Shinra.” The redhead raised an eyebrow. “You know how the President sent him away on a ‘vacation’ or whatever?” The General nodded, even as apprehension bubbled in his gut. “Evidently, little Shinra Junior has been in cahoots with an eco-terrorist group called AVALANCHE. The interesting part is that they’re not terrorists, not really. They’re against the use of Mako. Specifically, how Shinra uses Mako to garner wealth and power. Most of what they do is in an effort to save the Planet.” His fellow FIRST shrugged. “Granted, their methods can be extreme, but their goal is ultimately to restore Gaia to its original state; without the use of technology...and especially without the use of the Lifestream.”

“...That sounds _very_ extreme” Sephiroth said slowly. “Most of the upper plate runs on mako-powered technology, how do you propose getting them to side with us?”

The blue-eyed SOLDIER huffed.

“There’s other forms of energy” he said pointedly. “We’ve just gotten used to using what’s most readily available. Electricity is easier to harness than mako, we just can’t make superhuman SOLDIERS out of it. What most bigwigs don’t realize is that mako costs them way more to utilize than anything else. I knocked those gas-powered lights in Kalm, but it’s costing them a fraction of what it’s costing the city to run on the Lifestream.”

“Injecting SOLDIERs with mako is part of what makes them superior to others.”

The Commander grimaced.

“Yeah..and isn’t that kind of fucked up? We have this huge advantage over everyone else because we inject the souls of dead people into our veins. Is that something we really want?”

Sephiroth paused, frowning.

“I...never considered it that way.”

“I didn’t either” was the calm response. “But that’s what we’re doing. There’s a reason unprocessed mako kills people. It’s cognizant...it doesn’t want to be part of a vessel that isn’t a component of Gaia. I don’t know of anyone who can handle unprocessed mako except you” the redhead shot him a concerned glance. “And if I’m perfectly honest, that worries me...a lot. You shouldn’t have that ability. We still need to find out about ‘Project J.’”

“So you want to talk to Rufus” the younger man stipulated. Genesis nodded.

“I want to...test the waters with him. Hopefully whenever he gets back, if he does at all. I don’t think his intentions are entirely honorable, but if anyone would know the President’s weaknesses it would be him.” There was silence between them for a moment before his partner spoke again. “There’s one more thing...I don’t want you to agree to this today.”

The silver-haired SOLDIER frowned.

“Then why are you telling me this?”

The redhead sighed.

“Because I want you to want this...not because _I_ want this, but because you want a better life for yourself. I’m not saying this is going to work, it’s definitely dangerous, and the consequences would kill both of us. I love you Seph, I’m not going to drag you through this unwittingly, you can turn your back on it whenever you want. Take your time mulling it over. Shinra has been a huge part of your life, I’m not going to judge you for being reticent on giving it up...even if it’s just to make it better.”

The terrible, suffocating anxiety that had been threatening to smother him completely lifted somewhat. Tentatively, Sephiroth allowed himself to smile.

“I’ll...think about it” he murmured.

Genesis’ eyes crinkled at the edges.

“That’s all I’m asking. We have a mission coming up, and if I’m under surveillance I’ll have to behave.” He waggled his eyebrows at the younger man. “Goddess knows I don’t want to get written up by the Great General Sephiroth.”

At this, the green-eyed SOLDIER laughed.

“...Because I’ve _never_ written you up before.”

As they both chuckled, a sharp rap came from the other side of the office door; accompanied by the overexaggerated and felty purr of a zealous assistant. Glancing at the clock, the General was shocked to find that it was 0845.

“Damn your secretary” Genesis muttered, standing. Orbiting the circumference of the desk, the redhead leaned down to capture his lips before straightening his lapels and heading to the exit. “Try to get some sleep” he threw back over his shoulder. “Dinner at mine tonight?”

Despite the lingering ache of tension in his chest, and the sense of dread that was hanging about his shoulders like an insidious blanket, Sephiroth found that he was completely capable of hope. Tilting his head, he smirked indulgently at the man before him...the man that was evidently singlehandedly going to reform Shinra from the inside out. He found it oddly exhilarating...somewhat arousing. And as the sun spilled into the room from high chromium towers; the General allowed himself some small modicum of tranquility.

“...Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I've been gone so long, but I had several essays to write in the past two weeks, and I've had multiple Drs appointments. I'm more than likely not going to be able to get to your reviews until tomorrow. Edit: I've been siftif through reviews and it's 1 am. I am dying to just write but I have to go to bed. This month has been insanely busy for me, April was worse but I was staying up until 3am or pulling all nighters to crunch chapters. I got super sick. Do not do as I did/probably will do five minutes after this. 
> 
> I feel like this chapter is pretty slow, but I wanted to establish some goals...the characters have felt up in the air for a while. Also, Sephiroth doesn't address what he learned about Aerith in his discussion with Genesis, but this is more due to their constrained schedules than anything. It'll come up in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...nsfw. not sfw at all.
> 
> Edit: the topography of Wutai is based on Iriomote Island in this particular fic.

Appreciating the beauty of a jungle from the front cover of a magazine was entirely different from trekking through one.

Swiping what felt like the thousandth mosquito from his collarbone, Genesis glanced at the steely grey skies above him and scowled. Wutai was a world unto its own; wrought in a criss-cross canopy of lush adan, sprawling sakishima-suo, glittering sagaribana, rampant kudzu, and dense ferny undergrowth. The soil was soggy, dark, and deceivingly compact; snatching boots from socks like a muddy, hungry thief hell-bent on dragging its prize into the depths of the earth. Stagnant puddles gave forth swarms of culicidae, rising into the humid air as a horde of ectoparasites. It was the rainy season, but that didn’t bring them any relief. The droplets that fell from the sky were uncomfortably warm, smelling strongly of earth, and gritty when they dried on the skin. When the sun came out the heat was almost unbearable, even under the dense ecological baldachin that turned ultraviolet rays a luminescent chartreuse. Genesis could honestly say he had never encountered the problem of sweating down his ass crack before, but he now had a thorough experience to commit to memory.

The troops were-if possible-even more miserable than their commanding FIRSTS. Less mako in the bloodstream meant less temperature regulation overall. Add to that several pounds of heavy gear and automatic weapons, and three-quarters of them looked like they wanted to be put out of their misery on a daily basis. The only cheerful one of the lot was Fair, and that was because he was-apparently-smarter than the lot of them combined. The dark-haired cadet made a point to slather himself in pounds of sunblock and insect repellent, stow his upper gear in his rucksack, and hack his way through the undergrowth shirtless with a machete. The first time he'd done it Genesis nearly exploded with envy, because he himself was too high-ranking to go topless, and because he was absolutely positive he'd get burnt no matter how much sunscreen he wore.

Being a redhead did have its occasional disadvantages.

And maybe he was just overly sensitive to heat, because Sephiroth was _still_ looking just like he had when he stepped out of his apartment the day they left. The man seemed entirely impervious to the environment; it parted before him and not vice versa. The Commander made a point to keep close behind him so he didn't get tangled up in so many spiderwebs. He still did, and he still screamed inside, but it was a definite improvement from when he wasn't using the General as a moving shield. The silver-haired FIRST seemed to tolerate his close proximity with a kind of long-suffering affection; at one point drawing Masamune so he could clear a more definitive path for the already-angry redhead.

Beyond mission parameters, they spoke little. Mostly because they had reached a point where they were so comfortable with each other they occasionally did things that weren't exactly standard between two people who were merely colleagues. The Commander noticed the issue when he tripped over a submerged mangrove root and the younger man hauled him up and began looking for broken limbs. This-of course-caused him to complain which led the General to tell him to shut up, initiating a five minute squabble during which the entirety of the platoon was forgotten. Half the lineup was staring at them like they'd gone completely insane before either of them realized what they were doing. A few nights later, they were sitting around one of five campfires when Genesis rose to go to bed, running his fingers through Sephiroth's hair without thinking about it. The younger man proceeded to wipe the forest floor with him and bark something convoluted about _'salacious conduct’_ ; all the while blushing like a fire hydrant. In private, they agreed discrepancy was probably best.

It didn't make the mission any less stressful.

A week in and eight THIRDS had been sent back to HQ with feverish symptoms. A careless tech got stung by a Wutain scorpion and threw up for two days straight. Then a group of cadets got the brilliant idea to drink water from a sublevel pond, four of them had DNs sent to their families. It didn't particularly dent their numbers, but it was still unpleasant to write up the reports and it delayed their progress. They'd been sent to lay waste to Jīnlóng Temple; a remote but locally sacred place to the people of Wutai. There was a yearly pilgrimage that occurred once a year during the winter months,and Godo Kisaragi threw a legendary festival in honor of the coming spring. The Temple was heavily guarded, there was no way they would incur zero losses...but it was definitely strategic. Attacks on culturally significant landmarks lowered opposition morale and caused resentment against leadership. For Shinra, it was a clever move.

For some reason...Genesis couldn't condone it.

He'd never had a problem with religious genocide before. The Grasslands people had been a rich, virulent, and deeply spiritual society. The redhead was personally responsible for burning sixteen of their thirty worship totems to the ground, and it had never bothered him. In hindsight, he might have been too focused on rising through the ranks to recognize the atrocities he was committing, but that wasn't an excuse. Now, the idea of desecrating a holy place and murdering its pacifist acolytes made him faintly nauseous. He was beginning to suspect his friends were having similar problems. Every time his fellow cadets resorted to hate speech in regards to Wutai, Zack went quiet; sometimes he walked away. Angeal made a point of lecturing any SOLDIER who made light of the mission, spouting dichotomy in regards to humility during combat. Sephiroth refused to talk about the affair beyond mission parameters, his gaze distant when others took the time to speculate on their probability of success.

It brought back the significance of his conversation with the silver-haired SOLDIER tenfold. Yanking his left boot from a mud puddle,Genesis hopped precariously on one foot before returning it to its rightful place. He'd been serious with his proposal, but the more he thought about it the more impossible it seemed. Shinra wasn't some small-scale military regime. Pitting himself against a massive industry that was powerful enough to claim the majority of Gaia was practically suicidal. Reforming it was borderline insanity, and while Rufus might support the idea there was no guarantee he wouldn't simply take his father's place. Genesis had spent the last week in HQ attempting to ascertain his whereabouts, but his usual sources were frustratingly close-mouthed and he no longer had the advantage of being able to fuck the answer out of them. It was-he had discovered-very difficult to wheedle an answer out of someone who had grown accustomed to receiving your body as payment. It made him realize he was not a little bit shallow, and thoroughly disgusting to boot.

“Halt.”

The velvet baritone of Sephiroth's voice was almost indescribable through the pounding rain. Catching himself, the Commander only managed to prevent himself from running into the General's back by sheer luck. The platoon slipped muddily about for a bit before falling into somewhat of a formation. A few, including Fair, stood at attention but the effect was significantly lessened by their overall sogginess, or-in Zack's case-his shirtlessness. Angeal was helping up what looked like Cadet Kyrrth, but he could have easily passed as a filthy hippopotamus. In a fit of morbid humor, Genesis reflected that if the rain didn't let up the Wutains might not implicate Shinra at all, they might just assume they were attacked by a hoard of squashy, armed bogleeches.

“We'll stop here” Sephiroth continued, trying and failing to fling the bulk of his sodden hair over one shoulder. “I doubt we'll find better cover elsewhere. Ration your supplies and keep your fires low.”

Despite his automatic desire to protest, the Commander reflected that he was probably right. A thick, interlacing copse of mangroves created a complex canopy, overshadowed by towering bamboo and swaying palms. The roots wouldn't be comfortable to sleep on, but that could be remedied with brush and leaves dragged from elsewhere. Their tents were-blessedly-as waterproof as they claimed to be; though getting into them dry was an entirely different story. The FIRSTS shared a four-chamber pod tent, complete with collapsible cots; though in this terrain they were completely unrealistic. Genesis had taken to spending his nights on five or six sleeping pads with a sheet after waking up to find he'd sunk perhaps ten inches into the ground, along with the tent floor and tarp. Angeal slept in the pod to his left, and Sephiroth his right. Somehow, Zack had finagled his way in on day three and now occupied the communal space in the center. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than the Sleeping Forest had been by a long shot. The rest of the troops slept in camouflaged geodesic tents in staggered intervals; usually around or near a temporary fire pit.

“Commander.”

Genesis blinked and jerked his head to the side to frown at Sephiroth, who was managing to look like some sort of alien water god. The man in question lifted an eyebrow, rain sluicing over the bridge of his nose to slide over the bow of his lips. The redhead swallowed.

“Sir” he said hoarsely.

“You're head on brushgather tonight.” The silver-haired SOLDIER narrowed his eyes when he opened his mouth to complain. “I'd like a word when you're done.”

“Fine” he snarled. “I'll just knock on your pod, shall I?”

At this, the General leaned in so that their noses were nearly touching. To anyone else, the stance would have seemed threatening, but those emerald eyes said otherwise. Sephiroth tilted his head slightly, cool breath whispering across Genesis’ cheek.

“I'll come to you” he whispered.

Well.

_Well._

He suppressed the flush that was trying to creep up his neck with difficulty, schooling his features as his fellow FIRST stepped back and began throwing orders about. The squad he was leading into the woods was standing a few meters away looking like they'd signed up for a funeral. Forcing his lewd thoughts to the background, the redhead slogged his way over to them.

“Alright” he snapped. “You lot know the drill by now. Be back in an hour, triangulate your positions, don't lose sight of your partner. I'll be moving among you so keep it professional and do your share of hauling. Any questions?”

There was a positively pathetic chorus of _'no sir’_ s as the rain began to fall more heavily. One of the cadets nearest to him had a large amount of snot coagulating amidst the rain coating his cheeks but didn't appear to have noticed. Genesis wondered if his fellow FIRSTs ever felt like they were dragging about a pack of lethal toddlers.

“Dismissed.”

The Commander watched with no small amount of trepidation as the squad disbursed into the surrounding trees, talking among themselves. He gave them a few minutes and then set off in pursuit, easily marking where each duo had split off in search of brush. There would be two more squadrons out looking for the same; both under the watch of respective THIRDs. Under different circumstances he might have considered the practice unnecessary, but the terrain made it impossible to sleep without some form of topographic cover, and he'd rather a crowd of well-rested SOLDIERS than a hoard of sleepy, angry miscreants. As evening slowly transitioned into night, the redhead watched as his section of the brushgather team came straggling back with armfuls of palm fronds, banana leaves, and leafy foliage. These were distributed about camp, mostly under tarps for tents and sentry posts. The designated watch would rotate every hour on the hour, assuming that all went well.

Within about an hour and a half, the majority of the camp was adequately cushioned. Genesis dismissed his squad and sent them back to their tents looking worse for wear, though he couldn’t say he was much better. Days of torrential rain accompanied with brief snatches of smothering heat had done permanent damage to his leathers; he was slowly resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to toss them. As much pride as he took in his attire, there was no salvaging this particular uniform. Letting his gaze sweep the camp from his position at the perimeter, the blue-eyed FIRST noted that everything seemed to be in order. Most of the troops had settled in close quarters, their tents huddled around two low-burning fires dug about a foot into the topsoil. He knew from experience that they wouldn’t last the night; it was too wet to sustain any sort of long-term flame. Angeal and Sephiroth had evidently set up the Commander’s tent while he was occupied, a soft glow in one of the outlying pods was indicative of human presence. Faintly, he could hear Fair chatting with his fellow SOLDIERs to the left; the dark-haired cadet would return to the tent later, once he’d finished eating and drying his clothes out in front of the fire.

Angeal was nowhere to be seen, but he knew that he was responsible for report, and would assumably be out until much later. Their rapport hadn’t improved much, but both of them made an effort to be cordial in front of the men. Genesis didn’t allow himself to dwell on the gap in their friendship more than he had to, and while it bothered him, he’d come to the concrete but melancholy realization that there wasn’t really anything he could do about it. Everything about it was disappointing and depressing, but focusing on it didn’t get them any closer to accomplishing their directives, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Sephiroth’s words regarding the precariousness of his position in this mission was a constant reminder in the back of his mind, and he was determined to prove the brass wrong.

Pulling out his comm, the redhead stared morosely at the _’no signal’_ alert that had become perpetuous. It wasn’t like he was expecting it to change, but it was still somewhat eerie to be so far removed from technology. The Sleeping Forest should have taught him that there were places on Gaia that didn’t get any semblance of service…but it was still unsettling. Stepping around a mangrove root that was threatening to trip him, Genesis tucked the device back in his pocket and began to make his way to the tent. Assumably, The Wutains had some method of electronic communication. They were organized in battle in a way that people with radio devices normally were, and they could communicate succinct attacks across great distances. However, shifting through bodily spoils after lengthy battles indicated no such property of any kind. There were rumors that their methods of field lingo were less technological and more supernatural, but Genesis didn’t like giving in to superstition unless it was right in front of him.

“Sir.”

The guard stationed in front of the tent looked like they were about to fall over, and the Commander felt a pang of sympathy. In truth, he didn’t know why protocol required them to have a near-constant nightly watch, but dismissing them was unprofessional...and it would probably have been insulting. Instead, the redhead favored them with a nod and a smile, passing through the exterior flap and unzipping the interior; stepping through into the communal area. Fair’s belongings were still bundled into a corner, and he took advantage of the privacy by way of shucking off his boots, socks, coat, and shirt; wrapping the lot in a towel and leaving them by the door. He left Rapier next to Masamune, which was lounging somewhat precariously next to the exit. Ducking through the entrance of his pod, he glanced to the right to find his pack in its designated spot, along with his pile of sleeping pads. Peeling sodden leathers and undergarments off his person, the blue-eyed SOLDIER knelt next to his bag and ruffled through it to pull out a blessedly dry T-shirt and a pair of shorts, sliding them on with no small amount of relief. Stacking the sleeping pads proved a quick task, and while he’d have liked a shower there was absolutely nothing for it. Laying down and pulling a light coverlet over him, he reflected that if he never set foot in Wutai again after this blasted war, it wouldn’t bother him in the least.

What with the miserableness of the day, and the exhaustion of looking after a hundred-score troops, Genesis entirely forgot about Sephiroth’s promise to have a word with him. It came as somewhat of a surprise when the man unzipped his pod and ducked inside, a mere shadow against the dark backdrop of green canvas and receding light. Half-asleep, the redhead groaned and propped himself up on one elbow, letting the mako in his eyes adjust to darkness as the General knelt and edged his way under the blanket; stretching the length of his body against permeable foam before turning to look at him; his irises glowing a soft green as the slightly damp fall of his hair tickled the older man’s nostrils.

“Thought we agreed not to do this” Genesis sighed, rolling onto his side and pulling Sephiroth into him nevertheless. Burying his face in the slope of a perfect, alabaster throat, he exhaled wearily. “Something you wanted?”

There was a stretch of silence, and for a moment, he thought that maybe the General had fallen asleep. Then, the man in question shifted, cool fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt before lifting it up so a calloused palm could traverse the length of his spine.

“I thought that maybe we could talk to Kisaragi” Sephiroth murmured. “About your… _our_ cause.”

 _Now_ he was awake.

Narrowing his eyes, the Commander studied the visage in front of him; searching for any sign of reticence or uncertainty. There was none.

“So you’ve decided” he said calmly, the neutrality in his tone a sharp contrast to the flutter of excitement that stirred in his chest. He thought for a moment. “...It’s not a bad idea” he admitted. “But how would we get word to him?” Briefly, the rain picked up, and he winced as the noise became a cacophony against mako-infused eardrums. “And do we want Wutai involved in this?”

“Wutai is a pacifist country” was the quiet reply. “Unless encroached upon. I think we could count on their support as long as our cause had the goal of a nonviolent solution, which is what I was under the impression you wanted.”

“It is” the older man agreed, catching the arm that was hooked around his waist, drawing it away, back and upwards….letting his palm sweep up the underside of a long forearm to thread their fingers together. “But they’ll want recompense for past losses, this loss especially. Do you think they’ll be so forgiving after we raze a sacred temple to the ground and kill their religious figureheads?”

The General appeared to consider his query.

“...We could let them go” he countered. “Hewley would help, Fair would follow his lead. No one else would have to know.”

“There’s an underground passage” Genesis said excitedly, catching on. “Beneath the temple. One of us could establish a post there, solitary. Use head-off as an excuse and let them go, give one of them our names and a way to contact us, that would give Godo an opening. We want him to move first.”

“Yes...and I think Godo knows what he is up against” Sephiroth continued, pressing his toes against the redhead’s calf until he shifted to let him thread a leg between his thighs. “No matter what kind of resistance they put up...they’ll eventually lose. I don’t think he wants that, he’ll do it if necessary, but if he can avoid it without dishonoring Wutai he will.” He paused and appeared to collect his thoughts.”Gen, you… know how I feel about the troops, until we have a concrete solution for it, I can't move forward aggressively. I'm on your side...but I don't need my men dying for this. I won't ask them to.”

The redhead smiled crookedly.

“Yeah, I know. I'm working on it, mentally anyways.”

“...Thank you.”

There were a few moments where both men considered the task before them. After a while, the younger man arched slightly, pressing the length of his body against Genesis’; revealing the tell-tale stiffness of his arousal. The blue-eyed SOLDIER grinned.

“Anything else you wanted?” he whispered, echoing the movement and revelling in the lazy swell of heat that burgeoned between them.

Sephiroth's answering smirk was a glittering arc in the darkness. Night vision was a little weird with mako. Nothing was essentially green, but shadows and low points were distinctly shimmery...haloed with thin outlines of blue and on the medium to high range of the contrast spectrum. It was essentially a lot like daytime but everything was slightly airbrushed and a bit glowy. Genesis imagined he looked a lot like a flaming birch tree, while the General was enviously pale and somewhat luminescent. And-of course-that was just his perspective... because Sephiroth was going to look inhumanely good-looking no matter how hard he squinted, but it made him feel incredibly fucking lucky.

“Stop it” the man in question muttered, earning him a raised brow. “You're doing it again” he supplied, and the older man bit his lip as a large hand squeezed his right ass cheek. “Lowering yourself.” A moist tongue flickered over the edge of his lips. “You're…” Sephiroth paused and appeared to struggle with his words. “...You’re beautiful. Stop it.”

He didn't get the chance to reply. A warm mouth closed over his own, and he shuddered for it, opening himself for the invasion of a wicked tongue as heat unfurled in his belly. The taste of rain, sweat, and _Sephiroth_ invaded his senses, like the slow advance of a massive thunderhead. It was different-he reflected-so _different_ from his other encounters; he never seemed to get bored with it...never seemed to find that line that was constantly hungry for something or someone else. Emotional fulfillment was new to him...new and a little overwhelming, but he wasn't adverse to it. Gratification was base, ugly, and shallow. And while it might have earned him favors, it left him empty. Here, continuously, he felt _given_ to, and gave as much or more in return. For all his inadequacy, Sephiroth was faithful, and while a small part of him was wary of his tenacity...still more was starved for it.

They didn't have the luxury of time.

Clothes were quickly discarded in favor of nakedness, legs and arms folding into each other as the sounds of the camp died away. Despite this, they were careful to remain quiet. Neither of them could afford to go public, especially now...with what they had ahead of them. Genesis bit back a moan, flat on his back as his fellow FIRST sucked hungrily at the dip just below his belly button; fingers digging into his sides as the redhead ’s erection nudged his adam's apple. The Commander's hands sifted through endless moonlight-colored hair as he rolled his hips; acres of silver spilling over his stomach and thighs. Sephiroth made a soft, barely discernible noise of contentment as his tongue brushed over the weeping apex of the redhead's arousal; lingering only briefly before licking downwards along the shaft, lifting his gaze to watch the reactions he received. His breath caught in his throat, the older man could only jerk wantonly into his ministrations, clapping a hand over his muzzle as those perfect lips closed over him and began to sink down inch by inch.

Genesis wanted to stop him, because they hadn't exactly explored oral before, and oral was a little complicated. But then his erection was nudging the back of a hot, wet mouth, and Sephiroth was swallowing and _fuck all_ maybe he didn't need help after all. Because of course he was good at this, the blue-eyed SOLDIER thought hazily, watching as the muscles in that perfect throat worked convulsively before settling into a rhythm. Why wouldn't he be? He was fucking brilliant at everything else. The smooth, luxurious silk wending its way across every facet of his arousal was dizzying; and he was doing something-something _fantastic_ -with his tongue on every upslide, flicking teasingly over the head before diving down again. A warm, smooth fingertip was teasing his entrance, making him clench desperately as orgasm threatened to overcome him with alarming speed. Even with his hand covering his mouth, the noises that escaped him were utterly embarrassing. Sephiroth hummed contentedly, and Genesis could _feel_ his smirk even if he couldn't see it and nope  
- _no_ -not happening.

It took every ounce of discipline for him to push the younger man away; off his cock-which felt absolutely terrible in the suddenly overcool air-and away from his groin. It then took all of his strength to wrestle the General beneath him, their bodies careening towards the edge of the tent before settling precariously on the stack of sleeping pads as the red-headed SOLDIER yanked his partner's legs apart and descended on his lips like a man starved for air. This was-evidently-enough to earn him some submission, because the younger man shuddered and rutted up into him, fingers tangling into his hair in a familiar too-rough-if-not-for-being-incoherently-aroused gesture. Lifting a lax and acquiescent arm above the silver-haired man’s head, Genesis entwined their fingers and pressed it flat, sliding one leg up to lever himself, and snaking a hand between them. He lingered only briefly on Sephiroth's arousal, skimming the length of it before bypassing that aspect of his physicality entirety. Instead, he let middle and forefinger glide almost lazily between the moist juncture between his thighs, unable to resist grinning as the man under him jerked in a reaction that was half-pleasure and half-surprise. Leaning forward, the Commander let his lips wander the thin upward slope of a pale earlobe.

“You're so _wet_ ” he breathed, almost wonderingly; making another pass and watching with growing arousal as that glassy, flushed expression started to cloud the younger man’s vision. More obvious, however, was his reticence...his nervous reluctance to give himself to the feeling entirely. “Seph” he murmured, retreating to suck at the juncture where hip met thigh. “Relax.”

“I don't-” a long, low moan...ragged at the edges and lilting with desire escaped as Genesis cupped him and pressed gently. Involuntary, his back arched. Silver brows knitted together as emerald eyes clouded in confusion and lust. “It's not...not normal” he mumbled.

At this, the blue-eyed FIRST retreated somewhat.

“It's you” he replied, careful to hold his gaze. “Everything about you is you, it doesn't make a difference in how I feel. But if you want to stop, we can do something else.” Conflict raged in aquiline features, but Genesis didn't push him. Instead, he waited patiently, trying to ignore the flag of their arousals as the man processed what was being presented to him. In time, he opened his mouth, closed it again, seemingly caught on the brinks of indecision. Hesitantly, the redhead decided to offer something else. “I could...use my mouth.” Alarm flashed in Sephiroth's eyes and he continued hurriedly. “Fingers are...well, they're more textured. I know it sounds more invasive, and it's definitely more intimate, but it’ll feel...softer, if that makes sense.”

Again, the General deliberated, and he began to wonder if he should have just followed the younger man’s lead and gone with a blow job. Then, just when he was giving the night up for a lost cause, Sephiroth sighed, somewhat unsteadily.

“Just...just...take it slow” he muttered, flinging an arm over his eyes.

Reaching upwards, Genesis retrieved the offending appendage, bringing it down and settling it on the silver-haired SOLDIER's hip as he twined their fingers together.

“I need to see you” he supplied by way of explanation. “And I'll take it slow.”

He didn't miss the way the General's jaw clenched, but to his relief, he acquiesced with a jerky nod. Exhaling, the redhead smiled reassuringly before sliding onto his belly, relinquishing his grasp on Sephiroth's hand to gently coax pale legs upwards; till his knees were bent acceptably. Dipping his head, the scarlet-haired FIRST let his mouth trail over the crease where perineum met thigh, watching as the muscles twitched slightly in reaction to his touch. Following the same path with his tongue, he began a slow trek inwards; stopping to pay attention to specific erogenous zones he remembered could be pleasurable from other...far-distant encounters. He felt no small amount of relief when Sephiroth's erection began to fill once more, long fingers bunching against permeable foam as he fought against an instinctive desire to push for more.

When Genesis reached his sex, he took a moment to observe... acknowledging the absence of a clit. Which-of course-made sense with the impressive cock pressed against well-defined abdominal muscles. His scent was cohesive with the somewhat saccharine aroma he'd first sensed in the Sleeping Forest, though now it was considerably less overpowering and didn't make him feel like a deer in the middle of rut. It made sense-in a way-because Sephiroth’s arousal had always carried a distinct signature aroma... separate from anything he had ever encountered. Closing his eyes, the redhead let his tongue flicker across the inner folds in a soft upward swipe, a thrill running through him as moisture flooded his taste buds.

And Sephiroth, _Gaia, Sephiroth_ -

-Sephiroth made a soft, entirely new noise in the back of his throat that was half-whimper half-plea. His torso undulated as he tried to get away and move closer to the sensation. The bitter scent of precome flooded the enclosed space and Genesis hazily acknowledged that there was _no way_ Angeal wouldn't recognize the smell...but the thought quickly faded as he made a second swipe and the younger man _whined_ through his teeth, his head lolling to one side as his hips made to press downward before coming to a self-conscious halt.

“It's okay” the redhead slurred, positively enraptured by the sight of him coming undone. _“Relax.”_

Then, he lowered this head, mouthing hungrily for a moment before curling his tongue and pressing inwards; the green-eyed SOLDIER stiffened, and Genesis _sucked_.

Liquid heat exploded into his mouth as Sephiroth rocked into him; clenching desperately as a ragged gasp was cut off at the apex of its ascent. Then the silver-haired man was blabbering something utterly filthy along the lines of _’fuck’_ and _’Gen’_ and _’more’_ , and Genesis wrapped both hands around powerful thighs and did what he'd been wanting to do for at least a month; burying his face between his legs and bringing his knees up under him so he could fist his own erection as he ate him out.

The first time his partner came, Genesis had to lunge forward to clap a hand over his mouth so the entire camp didn't hear him wail his name. The flush that had previously only dusted his cheeks crept down to his neck and it took every facet of his willpower to keep the redhead from coming right then and there. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that the General was still hard above him...and that was sort of interesting, but Sephiroth was rocking into his mouth and sighing things he was absolutely positive he wouldn't be caught dead saying unless he was aroused beyond the brink of incoherency. Moaning into that blazing, shuddering heat...Genesis’ hips jerked as the threat of his climax threatened to vault him into another dimension.

Three times Sephiroth came before his dick followed suit; exuding ribbons of milky white as he twisted and shuddered, his mouth falling open soundlessly as moisture flooded over Genesis’ tongue. The redhead's orgasm came quickly after; brought to desperation from holding off until the younger man reached his peak. His body seized; oversensitive and exhausted as his vision grew hazy and dark spots bloomed in front of his eyes. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that Sephiroth was still shaking, a thin sheen of sweat covering him as he attempted to come down from what the redhead was sure was a mind-blowing experience. Momentarily concerned about the amount of noise they may have made, Genesis acknowledged the typical sounds of the troops getting ready for bed... nothing out of the ordinary. Breathing heavily, the older man climbed upwards, settling wearily into the hard-soft lines that was the familiar body of the man below him. Long fingers carded through his hair and he smiled wearily against the jut of a collarbone.

“Is that…” Sephiroth stopped and cleared his throat. “Is it supposed to feel that way?”

Softly, the Commander chuckled, nuzzling the crook where ear met neck before replying.

“What...good?” he murmured.

The General shifted impatiently, and the redhead rolled off him with a groan, shimmying onto his side as the younger man mirrored his position.

“So...so _much_...” he broke off and gestured weakly. “So much at once.”

Genesis pursed his lips, aware that it was a genuine question.

“I can't answer that personally” he said carefully. “I don't think many people could. You... experience two types of pleasure, three if you consider anal...that's a lot.” He hesitated. “There is something I've been wanting to talk about.” A silver brow lifted in question. “Well, I mean...you have external female reproductive parts, so once we get to penetrative sex-” he broke off and huffed. “-Seph, I mean, I don't want kids. At the moment anyway. And I think it's pretty safe to assume that with you it's a real possibility if we get careless.”

“That's impossible” was the flat response. “I'm sterile. Hojo made a point to expound on the fact several times.”

“So what's the point of forbidding sex?” Genesis asked impatiently. “Because if it's not that, I don't know what it is. Hojo's lied to you, repeatedly. And I'm sorry, but the last thing you need is to get pregnant right now. It's messy, it's not strategic and it's _not responsible_ what with us not knowing the entirety of our biology. It would ruin us, Hojo would take the child...who knows what he would do to you.”

“I'm going to pretend that you've never referred to me and childbearing in the same sentence” Sephiroth deadpanned. “But I see your point.”

“Good” the redhead breathed, deflating somewhat. “Because I'm sure we'd make gorgeous babies but they could be gorgeous baby _dragons_ for all we know and-”

“-Can we change the subject?” the General snapped, his body stiff.

Genesis relented.

“Yeah...yeah, just...okay” he muttered. Reaching forward, he brushed an errant strand of platinum hair away from a flushed cheek, thumbing the curve of Sephiroth's frown with a crooked smile. “Stop scowling” he murmured. “You're serious enough already.” He shifted and winced as the stickiness of the situation caught up with him. Groaning, he sat up and reached for his pack. “Let me get this wet” he muttered, pulling out a washcloth. “I'll be right back.”

The General made a low, tired sound of assent and the redhead rose and pulled on his shorts, unzipping the flap and stepping through. This would have been fine. Only he exited the pod into the communal space to come face to face with Angeal, who was looking red-faced and vaguely horrified. Genesis opened his mouth to speak, but was instead grasped by the forearm and dragged out of the tent into the now-drizzling rain. The guard-thankfully-was gone, and he had a sneaking suspicion the dark-haired FIRST had something to do with that. When he was sure they were alone, Angeal whipped about to look incredulously at him, his visage a mask of disbelief. When he spoke, it was hissed through gritted teeth; low enough that Sephiroth couldn't've heard it, but loud enough that Genesis couldn't possibly miss it;

_”Female reproductive parts?!”_

* * *

 

The rest of the mission was...bizarre.

Having learned that his commanding General was sporting what he considered ‘lady bits’ under his leathers, Angeal suddenly became ridiculously overprotective of the silver-haired SOLDIER. After veritably exploding-in violent whispers-at Genesis and going on a wild, illogical tangent about condoms and safe sex, his fellow Commander forbid him from engaging in any sort of affectionate contact with Sephiroth during the mission whatsoever. This meant that he had barged into the redhead's pod and barked at the green-eyed FIRST to get back to his section of the tent on threat of a write-up. Tired, disoriented, and covered in the remnants of their time together, the man obeyed out of what was-so Genesis guessed-pure shock and embarrassment. He didn't see him for the rest of the night, and in the morning their conversation was distinctly uncomfortable.

A few minutes after they rose, Angeal shepherded his childhood friend to the other side of the camp and thoroughly drilled him-yet again-on his apparent idiocy. Genesis would honestly have been less humiliated if he'd pulled down his leathers and spanked him in front of the squad. Because _no one_ who knew him beyond a first name basis had ever been crazy enough to give him 'the talk’ before, let alone _two_ of them in the space of less than eight hours. They set off soon after that, with Genesis taking up the rear and Angeal and Sephiroth heading the front. He should have been glad, really. Because the revelation of the younger man’s gender was ultimately what had gotten them talking again, but instead he felt guilty. This was something the General would never want anyone else to know, and now that Angeal did he was doing all the wrong things. He was quick to insist on going ahead, and unscrupulously watchful of Sephiroth's location. This continued for three days, and Genesis watched the man growing steadily more irritated until one morning he barked at the dark-haired FIRST to 'stand down.’ Instead of looking cowed, Angeal only looked pitying and somewhat sympathetic...like the silver-haired man was a woman throwing a fit. It made his fellow Commander see red. When they stopped for mess, the redhead dragged Angeal into the woods.

He then punched him square in the face.

The blue-eyed SOLDIER had the distinct satisfaction of watching his childhood friend’s expression go from incredulity, to shock, to hurt. When the bruise on Angeal's jaw started to fade, he spoke.

“Stop it.”

The man looked-if possible-even more confused.

“What?!”

“Stop. It.” he snarled. “You're treating him like a girl. He's not a girl, he doesn't _identify_ as a girl. You're insulting him, and I can't let you do that. Even if he was a woman, acting like that would get you written up for misogyny. It's wrong. Just...stop it. You're better than this.”

He left without waiting for a reply, and though Sephiroth looked curiously at him upon his return to camp, he didn't sit with him. Too angry to form any semblance of kind conversation, he organized a dueling chain and took a kind of savage happiness in knocking forty THIRDS on their asses in four minutes flat. When the train started up again, he noted with a grim sort of satisfaction that Angeal was acting in deference to the General's orders again, and he put his concerns to the side for a while. They’d talk about it later-provided that his friend was feeling forthcoming-when the mission was over and they had time to sit down and discuss everything thoroughly. When they finally reached the temple, he felt both a mixture of relief and terrible anticipation.

Sitting atop a high mountain range, Jīnlóng Temple was the picture of Wutain majesty. Tiered, with upswept roofing in traditional oriental style; three massive peaks sported weatherproof fusuma walls and interlocking wooden architecture. Religious totems glowed gold in the midday sun and multicolored flags waved brightly in a breeze that was common at such high altitudes. Here it wasn't so hot, and there were a myriad of tell-tale groves cleared out for the massive yearly pilgrimage. These were tellingly empty, and the coal in the fire pits was months old. Still, the holy place did have year-round visitors, most of them seeking council from the clerics. The main road was on the other side of the mountain, and it had taken them an extra day to traverse the precarious crags and gullies to avoid it. Now that they were there, however, the guilt Genesis felt at destroying such a place was multiplied tenfold.

Surprisingly, Angeal agreed to the idea of letting the clerics go, without even-so-much as asking why. It seemed he too was unsettled by their mission, though he wouldn't go into any detail as to what was causing his unusual reticence. Instead he offered to set a watch upon their infiltration, instructing Zack-who caved to the idea of mercy like tinfoil once he saw that his mentor was behind it-to draw the combat away from residential quarters. This would be easier said than done, but it was still uplifting to know they had two more people behind them. As disobedient and risky as it was, none of them wanted to risk unnecessary slaughter, and while the guard would die without question, they all agreed that religious representatives should be given a choice. Shinra would ask questions of course, but they had plenty of time to think up answers on the way back to HQ.

The day of the first attack dawned grey and overcast; synonymous with Genesis’ mood and his opinion of the entire ordeal. They lost four cadets to enemy fire within the first five minutes, and two idiots had the audacity to run in front of their Commanding officers to get blown to smithereens by land mines. The Temple Guard was-plainly-not to be fucked with. They were brutal, used to the terrain and familiar with their surroundings. By the time they made it to the lowest temple, they had incurred significant losses and still had to face the inner guard. At this point, Sephiroth took the lead, and the sight of him parting bodies like slicing through butter was both breathtaking and incredibly scary. Masamune dripped rubicund onto tatami flooring; staining the bamboo a permanent scarlet as the screams of dying men soared to the heavens. Angeal was less flashy but he got the job done. He didn't use the Buster Sword, of course, but the standard-issue blade he wielded was enough to instill fear in the men before them.

Genesis quickly learned that he could not under any circumstances firaga anything. The entire Temple was made of paper and wood and even the slightest flame would burn them all alive. Instead, he utilized Rapier without its customary enchantments, waltzing through the melee and keeping an eye out for any clerics. Zack was-he admitted-very good. The dark-haired cadet was lithe and acrobatic; easily able to keep up with his mentor and laughing the entire time. By lunchtime they had cleared most of the first, second and third towers, and the Commander was beginning to suspect that the clerics had already fled. It was only when he noticed a flicker of embroidered black silk edging along an upward bannister that he realized he might have been wrong. With a gesture to Angeal and a jerk of his head at Sephiroth, Genesis vaulted skyward, landing on the balls of his feet and ducking to avoid automatic gunfire. A bullet bit deep into his bicep but he ignored it in favor of not losing his tail. The Temples were courtyard-esqe in design, with wide open spaces in the center with various rooms circling the interior walls. These were accessed by spindly staircases that the redhead didn't trust at all.

The clerics were hiding in an artifact room on the far end of such a perimeter area, and while one of them raised a gun at the sight of Genesis, he quickly wilted when Sephiroth stepped into the room. Looking at them, the blue-eyed SOLDIER couldn't help but feel a small amount of pity. It was obvious that they'd never been trained in combat; their musculature was scarce and a few of the eldest-looking priests were grossly overweight. They went barefoot, with strange headdresses that reminded Genesis of fruit baskets and voluminous silk robes in various colors. Moving them surreptitiously would be difficult. They were obviously distressed and frightened and an acidic smell that lingered in the corners indicated that at least one of them had soiled himself. This wasn't exactly uncommon. Even in far reaching places like Wutai, the public still whispered of the _’bright-eyed demons’_ that were once men...filled to the brim with death and taught to kill. Sheathing Rapier, the redhead spread his arms and lifted his hands-palms up-in what was a universal gesture of peace.

“We're not going to kill you” he said calmly. “We want to get you out of here.”

A few of the younger clerics looked immediately hopeful, but an old, enormous man at the back spoke up; his mustache quivering as sweat dripped profusely from his forehead.

“Don't listen to them! They'll take us down and torture us in front of their minions for sport!” He coughed weakly. “Demons! We'll die here, we won't be part of your twisted schemes!”

“If you stay here, you will be” Sephiroth said cooly. “I cannot account for the actions of my men once they find you.”

“We know about the hidden passage” Genesis continued. “Let us escort you there.”

“And why would you help us?” another demanded, a younger man this time. The two SOLDIERS glanced at each other.

“Because we don't believe in Shinra's regime” the Commander replied. “But we're running on borrowed time, and if we don't go now, I'll have little choice but to kill all of you.” He grimaced as the bare-footed men shrunk back. “I'm under directives, if my men see me disobeying directives, I can't change anything. But right now, you can choose whether you want to live or die.”

In the end, most of the younger clerics agreed to go, while only a handful of the elderly went with them. It was ugly work. Genesis’ arm was on fire, and while mako could regenerate dermis, it couldn't repair a gaping wound in which a bullet was lodged. Hot, sticky blood was running down his forearm and his vision was becoming compromised. By the time they reached the first floor, Sephiroth was shooting him increasingly concerned looks. The older man ignored him in favor of remaining upright and exteriorly impassive. The monks were no help at all. They screamed at practically every gunshot, and a few of them ran away only to be caught in lethal crossfire. The paper walls around them were ripped and torn asunder; sacred texts scattered the length of hallways as they skirted an area of heavy combat and began their descent downwards.

It took them an hour to reach the passage, and by then Genesis’ head was spinning. He'd left a trail of blood from the foyer to the escape route, and eventually someone was going to follow it. Opening the heavy wooden door shrouding the entrance, the redhead was accosted by frigid air and a sense of endless depth. Almost immediately, the clerics began to file through without a word to them. Eventually, an elder priest turned to speak with them.

“I will convey your kidnessess” he murmured. “May the Goddess protect you.”

“You don't know our names” the General pointed out, watching as a few of the younger initiates rushed past them. The old man chuckled.

“Everyone knows you” he replied. “Though I must admit, the stars never informed me you would get this far.”

With no other further explanation, the priest disappeared into the shadows of the tunnel, and the silver-haired man shut and bolted the door hastily. At this point, Genesis’ legs gave out, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor, blinking stupidly as Sephiroth knelt to help him sit upright, swaying precariously. He watched confusedly as deft fingers peeled away his leathers to look at the wound beneath. And damn did it _hurt_. He'd taken far worse damage in the field, but this was a bitch.

“I'm going to have to pull the bullet out” was the low mutter.

Light-headed with blood loss and shaking from a pervasive feeling of cold, the older man merely grunted, letting his head smack backwards into the cold stone of the subground corridor in order to stay conscious. Dully, he was aware of the General’s anxiety. It was in the way his brows drew together in a near-imperceptive gesture of concern, and the manner in which his teeth sank into his lower lip as he lowerd his head; fingers pressing on the skin around the entry wound. Funnels of copper-scented scarlet dripped onto his palm; coalescing before the green-eyed FIRST shook it away impatiently. The redhead hissed and swore, ignoring the way moisture almost immediately sprang up to flood his eyes as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. This was _not_ normal. He shouldn’t have been feeling so terrible. In the Grasslands he’d taken five slugs to his right leg and skipped back to the encampment; cutting heads off the entire way. Mako was less than stellar with gunfire, but this was beyond abnormal.

“G-get a medic” he snarled through gritted teeth. Sephiroth looked at him incredulously and he was sorely tempted to run him through, but he doubted he could lift Rapier. _”Medic,_ s-something’s wrong.” Genesis swallowed convulsively as cold sweat trickled over his lips. “Hurts” he wheezed. “M-more than it should.”

As he spoke, the muted staccato of booted feet became apparent on the stairs. A squad of about ten cadets burst into the enclosed space, followed by Angeal, who observed what was going on and immedietly dropped his sword to kneel on the opposite side of the redhead. Sephiroth was informing their men that no one had taken the passage, and the SOLDIERS under their command retreated somewhat to set up a guard perimeter. His arm was jostled yet again, but he was too weak to form any kind of protest. There was a sharp intake of breath and the blue-eyed FIRST blinked desperately against the cloud of darkness that was threatening to obscure the entirety of his line of sight.

“...It’s black.”

Angeal’s voice came from very far away. Genesis shivered and tried to curl in on himself, but someone wouldn’t let him.

“I know.” Sephiroth. That _was_ Sephiroth wasn’t it? “Do you have a Curaga?”

“I do.” There was a distinct shuffling noise and a warm, virile feeling spread from the wound site to the rest of the Commander’s body. His hearing cleared somewhat, but the exhaustion didn’t...nor did the feeling that something else was wrong. “We need to airlift him back to HQ. Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be there.”

“Seph” Genesis croaked, shivering violently.

“At ease, Commander.”

Dizzily, even as his conscious accepted the reassurance that came with the slow, deep baritone of that familiar voice...another part of him registered the uncertainty behind it. And yet, he couldn’t grasp exactly what was wrong. And shouldn’t he be calling him by his first name? Didn’t they know each other well enough by now?....But he was _so tired_ and everything was _sore_ and slow and draining down into a swirl of incoherence; there wasn’t a bone in his body that had the strength to fight it. He was lifted, the hardness of a stretcher apparent against his back, unforgiving and unyielding. The redhead’s final thought was that almost everything in his life had been this concrete...impermeable wall of reticence...almost everything...except...except for _him._ He had given, without questioning his intentions, without asking whether or not the culmination of what they were would eventually end. Genesis shuddered.

...And wasn’t that beautiful?

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rough capter. Lately, my satisfaction with my writing has been at about -200%. Realistically, I know it’s not atrocious, but my brain disagrees with me. I can also feel when I’m...into a storyline and not into it, and it’s been incredibly difficult to formulate plot lately...not because I’m not into it, but because I feel like everything is so disorganized. Moreover, I feel like Genesis’ chapters have a lot more… _more_ to them. And I’ve realized recently it’s beacuse I can relate to him a little more. This is incredibly depressing for me, because I really love Sephiroth, and it bothers me to a degree I can’t quite explain that relating to him is so difficult. 
> 
> I do feel that enlisting Wutai’s help makes things more realistic in terms of a peaceful takeover. I am not 100% positive that Wutai was a pacifist nation ingame; I’m 50/50 on it (it probably wasn’t), but it sounds niceish on paper. I also need to decide if I want Deepground to exist, because they would make the plot SO COMPLICATED but god I love Weiss. Overall this was a long chapter. And a long footnote. I’m not really that great at talking in real life so it all comes out on paper.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**
> 
>  
> 
> And I will get to your reviews. It’s eating at me but I am so pressed for time lately. I’ve read all of them and I keep them in this special place in my heart because I love them so terribly much.


	20. Chapter 20

Degradation.

Standing helplessly in front of the red headed SOLDIER sitting listlessly on a scarlet couch, Sephiroth didn't think he'd ever heard an uglier word. He wanted to drag it out of the dictionary; leech verbose definition from ivory pages until it was a physical entity; one that he could crush out of existence with his bare hands. Clenching trembling fingers, the silver-haired man stared resolutely downwards, trying to process what he was being told. It wasn't the context of the phrasing...nor the enunciation of it. In of itself; it was nothing. Errant. Something spoken and forgotten, like the wisp of a memory long lost to the winds of time.

Applied to Genesis, it was heinous.

Because-according to Genesis-he had maybe four months left to live. Because Genesis said that his body was finally _'living up to its definition as a failure’_. Because degradation was an all-encompassing biological necrosis that heralded a finite end...a culmination of agony and confusion. Because Genesis was dying, and there was nothing, according to Hollander, that he or anyone else could do. Because soon...very soon, Sephiroth was going to be alone.

Again.

The General shuddered and bit his lip, tasting copper as it washed across his tongue. And it was so terribly, disgustingly, _selfish_ to think that way...he knew. He knew that right now he should be embracing the older man, whispering reassurances and guaranteeing his constant physical presence. He knew he should be doing _something_ other than standing there like some stupid, heartless, oblivious statue. But he couldn't. He couldn't because Genesis was _dying_ , and though he knew death, knew it from the battlefield and from hovering on the brinks of it himself; he'd never been unable to find a solution. He'd never been helpless in the face of a concrete cumulation of single solutions.

“We...we should end this.”

Genesis’ voice was weak; garbled and raspy from the regimen of treatments the idiot Doctor in the basement had put him through. His eyes were so bright from the copious amounts of mako pumped into him Sephiroth had trouble looking at him straight. The arm where the degradation had started to occur had previously been in a sling, but the Commander had ripped it off seconds after they had left the Science Department…mumbling something about _'no use coddling a lost cause.’_ And some small, traitorous part of Sephiroth wanted to agree with the redhead; a cowardly, frightened and sad part of him that was desperately trying to avoid the grief that would come...but he couldn't do that. Still more prominent was the dark arc of hopelessness that slashed across his psyche at the threat of rejection...of abandonment.

“Don't do this” he whispered. And slowly, Genesis was shaking his head, those beautiful cerulean eyes obscured by flame-wreathed lashes, and the fear became _panic_. “Gen-”

“-There’s no point!” the older man snapped. “Seph-Sephiroth, I'm a dead man walking. I can't-” He broke off and swallowed several times, moisture culminating at the corners of his eyes before he cursed breathlessly and clapped tremulous fingers over his face; dragging them down in a gesture that was at once despairing and self-anchoring. “We're done. You need to look elsewhere.”

And he'd been prepared for the statement. The moment the silver-haired SOLDIER had heard his fellow FIRST's diagnosis he'd been mentally preparing himself. Because Genesis was anything but logical in times like this. Genesis didn't think about what was coming out of his mouth on a regular basis, and the threat of.his own demise would only worsen that truth. So he was prepared. What he was _not_ prepared for was the pain.

It tore across his chest like some murderous, merciless beast. Sephiroth had the distinct sensation that the bottom of his stomach had dropped through the floor. He felt light-headed and panicked; something ugly and small yet massive squeezed at his heart until pinpricks burst in front of his eyes. Genesis wouldn't _look_ at him while he said those terrible words and it was that, more than anything, that spurred him to action. He took one step forward, two, then three, until the lower part of his legs were bumping the edge of the couch. Directly in front of the man trying so hard to be rid of him for unselfish reasons, the General lifted a gloved palm, hesitated, then stretched forward to grasp the jut of a clenched jaw...forcing it inexorably upwards until emerald irises met blue ones.

The Commander's expression was a tapestry of agony. Every facet of his being seemed to tremble with something restrained... something terrible leashed deep inside that he couldn't let go. Something ugly that was growing larger and larger with each passing second. It was angry, hurt, resentful, confused, desperate, and something else. His body was wracked with the strength of it, with the need to release it but his psyche refused it external access. Instead it ate at him, more monstrous than the degradation that was slowly but surely rotting him away from the inside out. And the younger man acknowledged that it was grief. Aching grief and regret and an apprehension of some terrible loneliness. Of empty nights and hollow days ahead... stretching on until a painful, finite end. And he knew that ache, that want, that terrible fear of separation...so he did the only thing he could think of.

Sephiroth let go.

Instead of walking away, instead of hurling hateful words and half-empty threats, instead of running from emotional attachment like he'd done so many times before, Sephiroth dropped to his knees. Bringing up his other hand, the younger man cupped hard-smooth cheeks between his palms, tilted his head up to press their foreheads together and exhaling shakily. Genesis had gone stiff and reticent, but he ignored it. Instead, he waited until those sea-blue eyes were looking at him again before he gave his reply.

“No.”

Calm, firm, and clear...the single utterance seemed to shatter the already fragile individual before him. Genesis went pale, every muscle in his body went tense, and then he was screaming.

“I'm _dying_!” he howled, trying to wrench himself away. When the silver-haired SOLDIER refused to let go he swung at him and the General was forced to lift one hand from that twisted, agonized face so he could catch his fist. “Don't you get it?! I'm going to be rotting in some nameless coffin in the ground! I'm going to be bones and dust and _earth_! I'm going to be a memory, in four months I'm going to be nothing! I'm going to leave you alone-!” He choked on the last word, shuddering. The wrist caught between Sephiroth's fingers tried to maul him again, and he clasped it more firmly. “-I’m a corpse” Genesis gasped. “I'm _worthless_ -”

“-You’re _not_ ” Sephiroth growled, digging his fingertips into alabaster cheeks before he realized what he was doing. He swallowed and tried to gather himself. “Genesis, I don't care-”

The older man seemed to lose all sense of self-restraint then, and the silver-haired FIRST was forced to give up affection for a sort of half-hearted self-defense as the redhead attempted to-assumably-beat some sense into him. It was disorganized, sloppy, and didn't hold half the vitriol it would have if Genesis was really trying to hurt him, but the desperation in it made his chest ache. Occasionally he would land a hit; a balled fist on his shoulder, a kick to his shin...arching against him as he attempted to find some sort of escapist leverage. Sephiroth winced at a vicious tug at his hair, grasping the arm connected to the offending hand and pulling it away, feeling several strands separate themselves from their respective follicles as he did so. Eventually, his fellow FIRST appeared to tire himself out, his body going slowly limp before he collapsed back into his seat, covering his eyes with his hand as his lips turned downward tellingly-quivered-before forcing themselves into a thin, straight line.

“Don't do this to yourself” he said dully. “I can't let you do this.”

“I'm not leaving you to suffer this alone” Sephiroth murmured, relaxing warily. When the man before him didn't try to knock him out, he sat back on his heels and let his hands rest on leather-clad knees. “Did you really think I'd do that? Leave you alone to care for yourself?”

Further, Genesis seemed to deflate; his hand falling away as he gazed at the younger man with despairing, red-rimmed eyes.

“No” he said hoarsely. “But I was hoping to scare you away for long enough that you wouldn't have to.”

The General frowned.

“What do you…?” he trailed off as he grasped the definition of the redhead's statement. “You wouldn't” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You _won't_ -!” When the Commander's expression remained detached, he grew angry. “That isn't the answer. You know it, I know it. I want to look for a cure, Hollander doesn't know everything.”

Softly, Genesis sighed. He leaned forward, appeared to hesitate, before bending his head to press their cheeks together; a long-fingered hand rising to card through Sephiroth's hair.

“There isn't anyone else who would even consider helping me” he murmured. “Seph...I can't afford to hope with this, I have very little time already. And, and if this gets too bad, I don't want to suffer this. You can't ask me to do that. You know how much my independence means to me, how _hard_ I've worked to get here. I can't die bedridden and pissing myself, I can't. Don't ask me to.”

It hurt to acknowledge the verity in his words...but Sephiroth knew they were true. And he understood, in a way. He knew what it was like to prefer death over helplessness, knew how much it meant to the other man to have the freedom of strength. It was singularly SOLDIER...such terrible pride, but it was also singularly human.

“Alright” he said hoarsely. “But I have one condition.”

Calloused fingers curled under the heavy weight of his hair, a thumb stroking the nape of his neck.

“Name it” was the gentle reply.

Sephiroth swallowed.

“I want to do it.”

A stillness came over the Commander, and for moment, the silver-haired FIRST was afraid he'd refuse outright. Then, the older man drew back somewhat, blue eyes searching his... gauging his certainty and his reasoning.

“Tell me why” he murmured.

The younger man closed his eyes.

“For the same reason you don't want to die in a hospital bed” he said, trying and failing to hide the unsteadiness in his voice. “Because I don't want you remembered as the SOLDIER who took his life in some cold, dark room away from everyone and everything you ever loved.”

A sad, soft sort of warmth bloomed in the other man's expression, and the hand that rose this time reached forward to thumb the curve of his lower lip.

“Do you understand what you're offering?” Genesis whispered, the wonderment in his voice almost insulting. “Do you understand what you would be doing?”

“I do” Sephiroth said flatly. “And never ask me if I understand this again.”

The Commander was stiff once more, his body rigid before him as a sort of coldness slipped through his visage before disappearing. For a moment, the silver-haired SOLDIER expected him to start yelling again. The thumb on his lip pressed inward for a moment-almost to the point of pain-before retreating. They were still then; facing each other, their gazes locked as a bittersweet understanding settled within each of them. It was sour on Sephiroth's tongue...hard like winter, violent like fire. Already, he felt desperate and empty and cold...and the darkness that had been held at bay within him reared up like a back serpent at the idea of loneliness and disillusionment. Because this was what life had continuously offered him...this precarious balance between loss and love. And it _was_ love, he acknowledged, with a sort of anguished horror. But he'd come into it too late, and he had no right to say it out loud...not now. It would only bring Genesis more pain.

Thoughtlessly, he rose up on his knees to slide his arms around a familiar, warm body. His hands dipped under armpits to clutch the red leather of a muscular back. Genesis stiffened, his form taut as he appeared to resist for a moment. Then, hesitantly, long arms settled over Sephiroth's shoulders, a mass of scarlet hair digging into his chest as the man tucked himself under his chin and grasped him like he was going to disappear at any moment. Brokenly, the younger man exhaled, pressing closer...closer, as if their nearness could erase everything that was before them. Genesis responded with equal desperation; a quiet, low, frantic noise escaping his throat before he threw a leg over Sephiroth's hip and started shaking.

It took a minute for him to realize that Genesis was crying.

When he did, he was accosted with the urge to scream. Not in fear or awkwardness or revulsion...but in the _unfairness_ of it...of everything that they were going to lose, of how hard they had worked to get where they were. And he hated Gaia...hated her with every iota of his being for thinking it was okay to steal something so precious from him...for letting him love someone to such a degree only to take them away. And as he held the determined, loud, annoying, brilliant and vibrant individual who had so stolen his heart and given him the same in return, he acknowledged that if- _when_ -Genesis died, he was going to die too.

It would just be a different death, and he didn't know if anything would be left of him once it was over.

* * *

 

Angeal was a trainwreck.

Sitting in his office and staring at a pile of reports he found he didn't care about at all anymore, Sephiroth acknowledged that he might be able to survive Genesis’ death if he focused on taking care of the redhead's childhood friend. Because the dark-haired FIRST was in absolute shambles. In hindsight, they might have done better in not telling him until things got significantly worse, but they'd both agreed that if anyone deserved to know, it was Angeal. Pulling a manila envelope towards him, the General stared at it blankly before pushing it off the edge of his desk and onto the floor.

They'd asked him up to Genesis’ apartment for an impromptu 'dinner of FIRSTs.’ Happy to attend, the man had conceded and arrived in the red-wrought living space at the designated time. Through the meal, their conversation was stilted, and when it finally came time to confess their real reason for inviting him, Genesis hadn't been able to do it. Instead, Sephiroth had had to take the reigns; haltingly stumbling through as brief a summation as possible about what he understood, pausing every so often to look at the red-headed Commander, who would nod for him to go on. By the time he was done, Angeal had gone from standing to sitting, his face so pale the General momentarily feared he might lose consciousness. For a long time, he seemed unable to say anything, merely staring back and forth between them as if expecting them to declare it an ill-placed joke.

Sephiroth had never wished so fiercely that it was.

Upon realization of the complete and utter lack of levity, the dark-haired Commander had stood and sat down on the couch next to Genesis and practically strangled him with a hug. The youngest of them had stood back, unsure of his place. And then Angeal rose once more, his jaw squared, his expression determined. Turning to Sephiroth, he'd closed the space between them and embraced him as well...though more briefly than his childhood friend. When he stood back to look at him, there was deep respect and appreciation in his gaze. More than that, however, was his devastation.

To say that the next few weeks were easier would have been dishonest.

At first, things were tentatively normal. Work and the war went on as usual, and their everyday activities continued. To anyone looking in from the outside, it would seem that nothing was amiss, but the little things...the little things were paramount...and they were changing. Genesis was tired...obviously tired. And for about a week after his diagnosis, he pushed through it stubbornly, insistently. Then he started going to bed earlier during weekdays, rising to go to his office in the morning and train in the evenings only to fall into bed at 2000 and sleep until 0745 the next morning. The redhead was obviously in pain; he moved carefully, avoidant of his injured appendage and favoring the others. A careless administrative officer had clapped him on the arm after a debriefing, and he'd very nearly collapsed in the middle of the President's office. Hollander sent up bottles of prescription painkillers, but Genesis wouldn't take them...insisted that they clouded his mind and made him feel sick.

Making love was very different. Sephiroth was constantly conscious of the slow-spreading, necrotic stain that was inching its way across Genesis forearm and down to his hand. Everything about it was _wrong_ on his skin….that milky, creamy alabaster skin whose depths he knew almost as intimately as his own...if not more. He was terrified of bumping it...of rolling onto it at night. The Commander was impatient with his reticence, eager for him as he always was...but afterwards...when the scent of their intermingling release had seeped into the sheets and Sephiroth's breathing was only just getting under control again; Genesis would be dead to the world, limp against the coverlets with a bluish stain to his fingertips and toes…his body still shuddering with aftershocks as it was wrenched from consciousness with terrible force.

The realization of his partner's imminent death didn't come until Friday of the third week. Sephiroth was sitting in the redhead's apartment in front of the couch watching the news-a customary thing now that Genesis retired early-when the bedroom door banged open. This was soon followed by what appeared to be the bathroom door being practically wrenched off its hinges, and his ears were greeted by the sound of someone retching violently. Stumbling out of his seat, practically flying down the hallway, the silver-haired SOLDIER was greeted by the sight of his fellow FIRST spilling his guts into the toilet, his frame shaking with the force of it. Unsure, awkward, and not a little bit terrified, the younger man had squatted next to him, pulling back the fringe of his hair and rubbing his back. Vaguely, he'd recognized the contents of the toilet were greyish-black…tinged with blooms of crimson.

Forever, it seemed to last forever. Minutes, hours flying by like phantasms with repasts so short they made him want to scream. Sephiroth spoke to him... mindless, reassuring snatches of comfort that he could barely remember, everything clouded by a haze of panic and fear.  
He began to wonder if Hollander had miscalculated, if he'd given them too long a time frame. What if Genesis was dying _now??_ What if this was the last thing he experienced? The last memory to cultivate in so few yet so many? Through the frantic, inchoate rush of disorientation that made up the culmination of his thoughts, Sephiroth acknowledged that the bathroom was quiet. Genesis was slumped against the rim of the toilet, his skin leaning more towards grey than pearl as he gasped for breath. He was shaking terribly, fingertips scrabbling weakly against red linoleum as if searching for purchase. The General made a noise that was something between relief and horrible pain and the older man rasped his name like a prayer... abbreviated and weak. Cold fingers wrapped around his, seeking comfort or giving it he didn't know, it didn't matter.

Running his lips over slender knuckles, he was rewarded with an exhausted, tremulous smile...the flare of blazing sapphire as those tired, crimson-haloed lids lifted to look at him briefly before closing again. And Sephiroth realized how much he would _miss_ those eyes; the flecks of amber in them that seemed otherworldly in luminescence...the way they glowed in the yawning dark of long nights when neither of them could sleep. He'd miss the way they looked for him, looked at him, _saw_ him in ways no one else did. Forever, he'd look back on the way they crinkled at the edges, quick to acquiesce to flattery...his flattery and none other. In years to come he would recall the way his irises thinned at the apex of pleasure; overtaken by pupils as he arched and called his name. The idea of the absence of those eyes was painful, painful in a way that squeezed his throat and left an aching hole on his chest.

Sephiroth tried to accept it, he really did.

Laying in bed that night, clutching the warm expanse of Genesis’ torso, he’d tried to accept that he wasn’t going to have this… _them_ for much longer. Genesis was sick. Genesis couldn’t recover, it was scientifically impossible. But whispers, whispers of _what if??_ and _I should try_ kept resurfacing again and again, kept niggling at the back of his mind like buzzards over dead meat. Giving up was acquiescing to hopelessness. He hadn’t even tried to look for a solution yet; absorbed as he’d been in making sure his partner was happy and comfortable. Now, he had to look. He was running out of time and he was angry at himself for not starting the process sooner.

The next day, he’d shared his intentions with Angeal.

Harried, worried, and practically comatose from sitting up and worrying about his childhood friend, the dark-haired first agreed with little resistance. Mutually, they decided not to tell Genesis. Not because they didn’t want to, but because getting his hopes up would be cruel. They began in the Archives. Three breech alarms in one month was a lot, but they were desperate, and it was all they had to go on. The Turks were very close to frantic by the time the first month had ended, and the General couldn’t bring himself to care. Sephiroth was off-base for a week and Angeal kept the Commander company while he was gone. When he returned they tag-teamed Hollander until the man spilled everything he knew about the Jenova project. Their methods were...less than ethical. Genesis insisted he had done everything in his power to get the scientist to talk...but even the redhead didn’t have access to unprocessed mako. Sephiroth had had mako used very creatively on his person, and he knew exactly how to use it on someone else. They didn’t inject Hollander with it, because they didn’t need a SOLDIER Hollander...as Genesis would say, _fuck that._ But they did use it liberally, and effectively.

Even with access to the redhead’s files, they were given very little. If he were to go further, Sephiroth would say that they wandered into weird and fantastic territory. Because Jenova was apparently an Ancient whose genes had been incorporated into their DNA. Stranger than that was the fact that Genesis’ mother was an Ancient. When they discovered this, neither of them really knew what to do about it or how to break it to him. She was absolutely dead. Horrifically dead, and Hojo was the reason behind it. Upon this revelation, Angeal had left the room to vomit spectacularly into a biohazard container. Sephiroth had to reign in yet another violent urge to kill Hojo, but thankfully he himself wasn’t the reason behind it, this time. There was a reference to Shinra Mansion, highlighted in red and a footnote that spoke of a specific reactor in Nibelheim. They took careful notes, and set dates to visit both. Separately of course, one of them would have to stay behind with Genesis. It would look incredibly weird if they both went on some obscure ‘mission’ together. In the end, the General volunteered to go to the Mansion, and Angeal agreed that Zack would likely enjoy a trip to the reactor. Distinctly, they were both aware that being caught was not an option, and they were careful to book transport to places of interest near rather than at their respective selections.

“...Seph?”

Frowning, the silver-haired man pulled himself from his musings, watching as Genesis stepped into his office. This would have been fine...only, the redhead was supposed to be in a meeting regarding Wutai right now. From where he was sitting, Sephiroth could see the fine strip of silver in the older man’s hair, glinting softly in the low light. It had first appeared perhaps three days ago, and while the Commander had most definitely noticed it, neither of them mentioned it to the other. With wearied steps, Genesis crossed the space between door and desk and sat down opposite him in one of the two receiving chairs. Here, up close, the silver-haired FIRST could see the initial tell-tale signs of degradation licking the collar to his jacket. Veins of thin, scraggly black were inching up his neck, and it wouldn’t be long before Genesis would be confined to his apartment. Shinra was next to apathetic about his condition. The President had visited him once, to thank him for his service...and Veld had come to see him personally. They’d talked at length for a long time, though from what the blue-eyed SOLDIER had said, it was more about coming to terms with his own death than anything. Rising, Sephiroth left his seat in order to take the one next to his partner; sliding close and placing his hands on familiar knees.

“Did the meeting go well?”

Confusion flickered in cerulean eyes, and Genesis frowned.

“...The meeting?” he murmured. “Seph, the meeting about reconnaissance South? That was yesterday.”

Alarm swept through the younger man, because he _knew_ about the reconnaissance meeting, he had been there. This, however, was an entirely different meeting.

“No…” he began slowly, then hesitated. Because Genesis would absolutely jump to terrible conclusions if he began to think he was losing his mental faculties. There wouldn’t be anything he could do to stop him, and he’d already volunteered his services. Forcing a tight smile on his face, the General leaned forward. “Silly of me” he said lightly. “Of course it was.” The relaxed, placid, and tired smile he received in return was heartbreaking. “Gen” he muttered. “I think we had better take you to see your sister. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but we might not-” he broke off and gritted his teeth. “-...We might not get another opportunity.”

And again, the sense of betrayal, the knowledge that he was still searching while the older man had obviously given up...it haunted him. Even as his fellow FIRST beamed and agreed, standing to pull Sephiroth’s map of the lower plate down from a high cabinet...he felt distinctly distant from him. And while they glanced over it, attempting to ascertain exactly where they might be able to meet Aerith in person...he glanced to the side and down at the floor. His mind wandered back to Genesis’ obvious cognitive lapse. Yet another worry, this one far more insidious than the ones that had come before, sprang to his mind and raged like wildfire.

Closing his eyes and letting despair unfold in his chest, Sephiroth wondered if Genesis’ body was the only thing the redhead would lose before all of this was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sad chapter I'm afraid. Thank you for reading.
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	21. Chapter 21

Pain.

Genesis was no stranger to the aforementioned. Standing in front of a little dilapidated church near the outreaches of the slums, the redhead tilted his head up to look at the crumbling steeple. Pain was embedded in his muscle memory; from battle, from mako treatments...and from the beatings he received from his father as a child. As a SOLDIER, injury was expected, sometimes revered. When he was a Cadet, getting hurt on the battlefield was a sign of bravery. As he progressed through the ranks, he came to understand that being wounded wasn’t exactly a staple of honor; scars became less of a commodity and more of an oddity. You couldn’t boast of something that faded as quickly as it became apparent. Still, his mind remembered...and on the cold days...the days when things seemed most hopeless and most aimless, his muscles ached with phantom agonies; snatches of gunshot wounds and blades that sliced through flesh as easily as if it were butter. Pain was both a reminder and an ignorance...pain was knowledge that gave as ubiquitously as it took away.

Shifting, the Commander grimaced; moving to clutch at his arm before shying away. This pain was different. Unlike other, negligent aches, degradation was a constant seething undertone to his day-to-day existence. Like the throb of an infected wound, it ate away at his physical durability; grinding into his synapses like some hungry, ravenous beast hell-bent on consuming him from the inside out. It was impossible to dismiss or ignore, and the only lesson it taught was the finite, dark denotation of mortality. Every time he moved it seemed to accompany him; jagged, arduous ripples of paroxysm that made his fingers stiff and his limbs lackadaisical. It was...disheartening...more than disheartening to acknowledge that his limitations had become so boundless, and would continue to advance as the days wore on.

He’d never been one for apathy; inertia bothered him, grated at him. In the past, he avoided it with a vengeance because it forced him to think about things he’d rather not. It made him focus on the fact that his father hated him...on the possibility that he would never achieve any of his pursuits...on the fact that he was so undeniably different from everyone around him. Here, now, it made him acknowledge that he was not invulnerable, that he was brought down by something as simplistic as illness. SOLDIERS didn’t get sick, it was one of the benefits of mako treatment. Unless extenuating circumstances mitigated malady, there was absolutely no reason anyone with a rank of SECOND or higher should be indisposed. And yet here he was, wasting… _dying_.

When Hollander first diagnosed him, down in the labs, he’d laughed in his face. Because _surely_ he was joking. Genesis’ life didn’t have a four-month time frame. It was ludicrous, preposterous to even suggest such a thing. Then, when the Scientist’s tone didn’t deviate from its quiet, careful modulation...he’d simply sat on the examination table and stared at him until his eyes watered. Because he was _not_ dying, he couldn’t die. He had too many things to do, too many responsibilities, too many people who relied on his longevity. Death meant that he had to give that all up; had to surrender himself to a rectangular box and dying soil and the Lifestream. He loved Gaia, _cherished_ her, but he didn’t want to be a part of her...not yet.

In truth, maybe a year ago it wouldn’t have bothered him so much. He’d made it to the highest possible rank he could achieve; fought in dozens of battles and made a name for himself. Genesis had a working legacy that no one would forget. He was unattached...emotionally unfettered. No one was asking anything of him that he was reluctant to give up, and he’d be leaving no broken hearts behind. Glancing to the side, the redhead took in the stern, taciturn profile next to him. A light film of residual mako clung to dusky black leather; reflected against midday light that came from the hole in the plate above them. Ethereal...like something insubstantial given life and beauty that often left him breathless in the face of its perfection.

Sephiroth had changed everything.

In some ways, Genesis looked back and cursed his inability to foster the dislike that had festered between them for so long. Without giving the General a chance, neither of them would be faced with indecision. He’d have offed himself upon hearing his diagnosis and the only person it would have bothered was Angeal. They wouldn’t have pursued the context of their origins and nothing would be different, save that he wouldn’t be in the picture anymore. And yeah, maybe a few of his former lovers might sigh wistfully at the moon every once in a while, but there wouldn’t be _this_. ….Sephiroth was devastated, even an idiot with the knowledge of his imminent death could point that out. Genesis hadn’t anticipated that kind of reaction. He’d expected to be rejected...maybe avoided because the younger man couldn’t deal with the pain, but the agony in his gaze was something completely unanticipated. Sephiroth looked at him like he was the single, bright star in the darkest of nights...a star that was slowly dimming... succumbing to the ravages of time.

Somehow, he was sure it hurt more than his rejection would have.

“Tell me if you…” the General trailed off, aware of how acknowledgement of the Commander’s weakness could affect the quality of their rapport. Genesis understood.

“I’m fine” he said quietly, tugging at the collar to his jacket and stepping forward. “Let’s go.”

The story that had led them to this specific church was an interesting one. Angeal was known to lose his cool every once in a while, but to lose it _physically_ , and on a trainee, that was incredibly rare. Zack’s encounter with Aerith was pure coincidence...a damnably lucky one, and his conversation with Sephiroth even luckier. Genesis counted it squarely a miracle that the silver-haired man had been feeling socially forthcoming with the dark-haired trainee. It was what had led them here, to these broken and timeless doors through which was coming a strangely floral, virile scent. There were so many factors that could have gone differently, so many intricate circumstances that had led to the culmination of this. And yet...here…in the face of everything before him, he was uncertain.  
Did he _deserve_ to reveal himself to someone who could possibly be his sister if he was only going to leave her in a few months? What kind of damage was that going to do to a young woman who-as far as their digging had indicated-had no living family to speak of? Running a nervous hand through scarlet locks, Genesis bit his lip. Adversely, he acknowledged that he wanted Sephiroth to have as many connections as possible before he died; people he could talk to and confide in. Even if that 'pool’ of individuals only consisted of Angeal and his sister, it was better than nothing. Better than leaving the man broken and wanting and alone. He didn't have any sort of guarantee that the younger man would _use_ such connections, but he wanted to be sure that they were available. Even if the General didn't reach out to them, he knew that at least Angeal would attempt to comfort him.

The familiar press of a warm hand at his spine made him pause; search through the residual ache it precipitated to acknowledge the affectionate heat it offered. Retreating swiftly, the offending digits carded gently through the sparse hairs at the nape of his neck before resting just below his jugular; across lines of sluggish pulse. Sephiroth's expression was patient, indulgent even...if Genesis felt like stretching it. Absently, he wondered if it were possible to miss someone when you were dead. He didn't like the idea of spending the rest of eternity aching for someone you couldn't have, but the idea of an emotionless immortality was even less attractive. He wanted to be able to miss Sephiroth...to acknowledge the place he'd had in his life. Doing anything else seemed shallow.

“Gen.”

The Commander sighed and forced himself to advance once more, slipping out from the General's grasp and placing his hand on one of the old wooden doors. A sense of recognition, of long-awaited anticipation was slowly growing in his chest; like the soft furl of a morning glory on the apex of dawn. It shivered like windswept corolla, at the brink of culmination and discovery. Applying pressure, he winced as the massive hinges squeaked deafeningly, negating any possibility of a stealthy approach. ...And was it really necessary? Here, the floral scent was almost overpowering, amplified by the massive amount of mako in his system. Beams of iridescent sunlight seemed almost otherworldly; filtering from holes in the roofing in streams of circulating gilded solus. Here, at the shadowed entrance, the air was somewhat stuffy and dank, but the sight before them rendered such a fact null and void.

In the center, past rickety molding pewds and sprawling stairs, underneath the largest gap in the ceiling lay a vast bed of flowers. Star-shaped; peridot, gold, and ivory...petals still and dew-strewn in floral magnificence. Green leaves poked out from under heavy colored heads...nodding softly in a breeze that seemed to have no source. They seemed to speak to each other... strange in their solidarity, singular in rarity. Genesis found that he couldn't breathe, couldn't look away. He'd seen flowers before; gaudy, obnoxious things that spread over the grounds of Rhapsodos mansion. Here, now, there was a purity to them...like the echo of the clearest bell-tone, shivering up from diaphanous depths. Beside him, Sephiroth was oddly still and tense. The redhead sensed that his surprise was no less, but his reticence was greater still.

There was a soft rustle, and Genesis’ gaze focused in, on the center of the petaled glory before him. Hidden, almost indiscernible in the sylvan sea, a head of auburn hair bobbed between swaying fronds. The aforementioned locks were long...almost as long as Sephiroth's; twined in a tight but thick braid that framed the left side of a pale, swan-like neck. The woman before them was thin but not frail; more supple, like the swaying, timeless branches of a willow. Graceful, her hands. He could just as easily picture them plucking strings as they plucked weeds; slenderer than his own but no less deft. She wore a simple, button-up shin-length dress that was watermelon colored. It was modestly covered by a cropped thulian cardigan with three-quarter sleeves. Her combat boots seemed overlarge, but were careworn and laceless. Completing her appearance was a bow carefully fixed to the apex of her braid; somewhat floppy and the same shade as her dress.

As if sensing his gaze, she stopped and stiffened, tilting her head as if listening to something far away. Then, slowly, she raised blue-green eyes to appraise them. Alarm was the first apparent emotion, and then a carefully guarded suspicion. Her focus switched to Sephiroth, and for a moment it seemed as if her face had drained of all color. Those fingers twitched minutely, as if itching for something that was no longer there. Then, reluctantly, as if the General might attack her if she glanced away, she looked back at him. There was recognition there, Genesis acknowledged, fleeting and painful. Like the ghost of an old wound in hard rain it acknowledged him and buried itself away... somewhere aching and distant. It seemed as if something moved behind her eyes... something deeper than the knowledge someone of her age would be capable of. Part of him hearkened to it, yet another rejected it with a violence that left him hollow and terrified. She was-he acknowledged-more cognizant of Gaia then he could ever be. Every facet of her being seemed to vibrate with preternatural cognizance. He wondered-vaguely-if he had ever had such awareness.

Then she smiled.

It was a sad gesture. At once resigned and hopeful. Her body seemed to sag with it, with an acceptance of something predetermined. He couldn't say what it was, only that she seemed akin to him...yet so different. Here was someone who had faced death and embraced it with every facet of their being. Genesis envied her, because he was nowhere there yet. Another touch at the small of his back, and her eyes followed the movement, pale brows furrowing...as if it was something that didn't belong, that she hadn't anticipated. This confused him, because by Sephiroth's account, she had been the one to bring the younger man back to life. Shouldn't she already know who they were?

“Why are you here?”

That voice. _That_ voice, it was familiar. Genesis recognized it. From clouded dreams wrapped in necrotizing agony...from the confused, unconscious planes he'd wandered of late. Between it and Sephiroth, they were the only things that gave him solace. And yet, she didn't know them. That much was obvious. From her initial response to her apparent reticence. The redhead cleared his throat.

“I…” he trailed off, somehow unsure and awkward. “My name is Genesis Rha-”

“-I know who you are” she cut in quietly. “Everyone knows you. But why are you here?”

“Your name is Aerith” Sephiroth said calmly, but she refused to look at him. “You have taken the name Aerith Gainsborough, but the woman who raised you is not your mother, just as the people who raised Genesis are not his parents. Your mother was Ilf-”

 _“-Stop!”_ Fear. She was frightened. Every facet of her being was wrought with terror. He couldn't understand it, couldn't comprehend why someone he'd never met, whose country he had never laid waste to would abhor him so. And yet she did. Stronger than her fear was her dislike, it suffused her posture, her expression. She looked at them like they were monsters wrought from dark fairy tales come into being before their time. _”What do you want?!”_

Genesis glanced helplessly at Sephiroth, who raised an impassive brow. Which was the Sephiroth way of saying _'this woman is hysterical and this is not my problem. Deal with it._. He huffed and turned back to the cowering woman.

“My father's name was Gast” he said quietly, watching as her eyes widened. “My mother's name was Ilfana. They're dead, but the records show I have a sister, a sister with your name.” He waved a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “It may not be you, but I'm... I'm...not well, and I wanted to meet her, before-” he hesitated and took a deep breath. “-Before I have to...ship out upon my recovery.”

The General stiffened, but he shook his head in a negative gesture. She didn't need to know. Especially if she wasn't receptive to them. Now though, Aerith was looking at them like she'd never seen them before. And she hadn't, not physically-he reflected humorlessly-but her expression was that of utter shock and incredulity.

“...You _know?”_

This was whispered, breathless and wishing. The hand holding her trowel like some sort of makeshift weapon lowered abruptly. The auburn-haired woman stood on unsteady legs, fingers clenching in her dress as she looked between them with an expression that was half fear and half hope. Slowly, Genesis nodded.

“Yes, we know. I-”

There was a loud _***clang***_ and Genesis winced, putting one hand to his ear to keep it from vibrating. A rustle of fabric and a blur of pink was his only pre-herald. Then he was being hugged, desperately, happily and _ow-_. His knees buckled from it, brought him down hard on the rotted floor beams as an exclamation of surprise and pain left his lips. Aerith made a sound that was both horror and shock, descending with him as her tiny frame tried and failed to keep him upright. Her hands clung to his vambraces and he felt... something, a shiver of cold-hot warmth lancing through his veins before she recoiled from him, her eyes going from bewilderment to pained disbelief.

“You're _dying_ ” she said tremulously.

There was a sharp intake of breath to his right, and he felt rather than saw Sephiroth's hand descend to grasp Masamune's hilt. Aerith stiffened and the redhead flailed blindly, managed to slap a black-gloved hand away from the aforementioned weapon. And fuck was he _confused_ but this was better than he'd anticipated and he'd take it...because he had so little else left to him. Gritting his teeth, Genesis called Rapier and used it to lever himself up, involuntary grasping his arm and hissing with the jolt of pain that came with it. She-his _sister_ -was still kneeling on the floor, looking up at him like he'd given her the earth and then ripped it out from under her.

“Yeah, I am” he affirmed wearily, giving up all pretense of decorum and leaning heavily on a very tense General. “But I wanted to see you. And I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but Shinra doesn't allow us leave all that often. We had more time to look for you after I...after I started getting sick, and Zack gave us a hand up.”

Aerith blinked.

“...You know Zack?”

“By acquaintance mostly” the redhead muttered, swaying slightly. He gestured at the pews around them. “...Could we?”

Startled, the woman seemed to gather herself, her fingers curling in the dusky fabric of her dress once more before she hastily stood.

“O-of course. Sit there, there's not a lot of good ones anymore.”

A firm hand under his arm was an appreciated presence, and while Aerith seemed to want to take the other, the nervous glance she shot at Sephiroth was telling. He snorted.

“Look, Seph’s not gonna eat you” he said hoarsely, sliding into a rough-hewn pew as the silver-haired SOLDIER took up position at the side. His sister followed hesitantly,sinking into the isle ahead of him and rotating so she could prop her head on her arms over the back. “He's...all soft inside.”

“I am _not_ ” the General snapped, but there was no weight behind it. Genesis smirked and patted his hand, his lips widening into a grin as he was smacked away.

There was a pause, and he allowed himself to relax as the woman before him studied his face. Her eyes swept him from head to toe, lingering on their shared features as if drinking him in so she wouldn't forget him.

“I guess we have a bit to talk about” he remarked at length.

Aerith's lips quirked into a small smile.

“Yeah” she said quietly, then sat back and shook her head. “This is so...so surreal.” She smiled again. “I'm...so, _so_ happy to meet you.”

Genesis returned the gesture.

“Me too.”

“You know us” Sephiroth remarked. “More than by face” he pressed when she opened her mouth.

The church creaked ominously around them, shadows lurking and boundless in crevices and cracks. It was a strange place-Genesis reflected-someplace out of time and toil. He was occasionally accosted with the sensation of being in a ship's hull out on deep water. The echoes of the city seemed faint here, even though they were right outside, and the light was different; brighter, softer, alien in a sense that was less pervasive and more spiritual.

“Yes” Aerith said quietly, looking at the younger man for the first time. “Though...not in the way you might think.” She fidgeted. “My… _our_ mother, she died when I was seven but she talked about you.” Auburn locks shifted and she tilted her head, her eyes distant with the memory. “...Not a lot. Just...when she was talking about Dad. She said you looked like him, if he was ever handsome.” A soft chuckle. “I...never thought I'd meet you. I knew who you were, where you went, but she always said I shouldn't talk to you, that it would be dangerous for both of us.”

“Do you know…” Genesis stopped and ducked his head. “I mean, if you're okay with talking about it. D’you know how she…?”

Sephiroth was _so tense_ , ridiculously tense, and he was tempted to drag him out if the church to demand what the hell was wrong because this was _his_ idea. Then, Aerith was speaking again, and he reverted his focus to her.

“Hojo…” she began quietly. “He's a…”

“A twat” the redhead said flatly, her eyes twinkled.

“I was going to say _'monster’_ ” she replied delicately, a thin vein of mirth in her tone. “But that'll do fine.” She sighed. “Hojo hated Dad, mostly because he was smarter, but also because he wouldn't give Mom to him so he could experiment on her. When I was born he couldn't wait anymore, so he killed him when I was twenty days old and took us to the labs.” She shivered. “He...did things...most I don't remember, and Mom was quick to volunteer to spare me. We escaped, but she was too badly hurt. She died...in front of the subway in the slums. Elmyra-the woman who raised me-she was passing by and Mom asked her to take care of me.” Aerith smiled tremulously. “She did.” Aquamarine eyes cut to Sephiroth. “You don't seem surprised.”

Shaking himself out of his outraged stupor, Genesis looked accusingly at the silver-haired FIRST, who wouldn't meet his eyes. The General cleared his throat.

“Angeal and I kept looking” he said in a low tone. “We found out about your parents, but we didn't know how to tell you.” When the older man continued to look at him in disbelief, he grimaced. “... There's more, if you're interested.”

“Of course I am” the Commander said hoarsely. “How…? How could you keep this from me?!”

Sephiroth flinched.

“Because we got it out if Hollander” he snapped. “And... because we're... we’re still looking for a solution, for you.” He cleared his throat. “I, I didn't think you'd want the opportunity to hope, and I didn't know how to tell you without revealing that we were looking.”

“You got it out of Hollander?” Genesis asked, distracted. “How the hell did you do that?”

The green-eyed SOLDIER flushed and ducked his head.

“Being Hojo's…” he narrowed his eyes. “... _Toy_ has taught me a few things about torture.”

Aerith inhaled sharply.

“I remember you!” she exclaimed. “You're JPS001!” The General recoiled as if slapped, stiffening and lurching away from the pew before seeming to catch himself. When he did, he neither returned nor retreated, staring off at the sea of flowers like they were somehow a grave offense to his psyche. Genesis’ sister was still speaking. “They talked about you, a lot. Sometimes, I heard you. Hojo used to do conscious operations on you too...like Mom. I heard you, screaming, sometimes for days-”

“-Enough.”

Sephiroth's voice was harsh enough to grate diamond. His face was devoid of all color, the green of his eyes pale and barely discernible. Genesis hasted to stand, fumbled over Rapier and caught himself on his bad arm, swore mightily. In an instant, the silver-haired SOLDIER was by his side, grasping his elbow with surprising gentleness considering his mood. Surreptitiously, Genesis stroked a thumb over trembling knuckles as he sank back into his seat.

“You don't remember me?” Aerith pressed, and the Commander shot her a warning glance.

Seemingly surprised that anyone besides Genesis would push him so hard, Sephiroth laughed bitterly.

“Hojo first strapped me to the gurney when I was four” he said quietly. “He paralyzed me from the waist down and slit me open from stem to stern to watch my regenerative prowess. It was protocol, he told me. I begged him to stop.” The General's jaw clenched. “When I was seven I stopped begging. It didn't hurt anymore, not the way he wanted it to, so he got more creative, but I never gave him that satisfaction again.” Slender fingers pushed silver hair away from an aquiline visage. “When I was ten they took me to a Reactor up North. I don't possess any recollections from it, save for being dragged under the tower in Kalm Town. When I...came to Hojo told me I was dangerous, and that was why I was stuck in the labs.” He laughed again. “Then I learned he was my father.”

Aerith looked stricken.

“Seph” Genesis croaked.

“It doesn't matter” the younger man said quickly. “I am JPS001, yes. But I don't remember you, child, because I was too busy bathing in my own blood.”

The silence was deafening.

Genesis felt sick. He'd known about the younger man’s past, yes...known it was a terrible, torturous history. But he'd never asked him to describe it in detail. Laid out bluntly and emotionlessly, like the act of describing a particularly boring picnic, it seemed so much worse. Coupled with what Hojo had done to his parents, it took everything he had to stay seated and not stagger back to the Science Division to separate the crazy quack’s head from his shoulders. And when was enough _enough_?? Would Hojo ever stop if left idle? He seriously doubted it.

“I'm sorry.”

His sister’s voice was small, almost tearful.

“It doesn't matter” Sephiroth repeated tonelessly. “This is about the two of you, not me. The 'more’ I mentioned is the fact that your mother was half Cetra..”

And Genesis did not know what to do with that.

Because Cetras were officially classified as Ancients, and to declare him half-Ancient was both thrilling and scary. At the same time, he was painfully cognizant of how stressed his partner was. Sephiroth wasn't unduly social. For him to admit so much to a veritable stranger, he either had to be drunk as fuck or incredibly stressed; and the General was definitely not the former. He’d have liked to entertain the idea that the younger man was feeling communicable because he wanted to get to know Aerith, but he knew better. Sighing, the redhead ran a gloved hand through his hair. No, he couldn’t imagine the stress that had come from trying to find a solution to the degradation, coupled with the guilt of not being able to tell him anything. He was upset that he hadn't felt it necessary to divulge such information to him right away, but at the same time he understood his reticence.

“So I'm-what-maybe half as unique as you?” he queried, allowing a teasing tone to slip into his voice.

Green eyes softened, and the ghost of a smile passed over the General's features.

“You know better than that” he said in a low voice, tilting his head. “I'm just... genetically overprivileged. You're a walking fairytale.”

Genesis snorted, even as a blush crept up his neck. Raising a fiery brow, he grinned.

“Are you _flirting_ with me Seph?”

His fellow FIRST was totally hiding a smirk.

“Absolutely not.”

Aerith was glancing between them with an expression that was far too shrewd for his liking. She opened her mouth-seemed to think better of it-then spoke regardless.

“Are you…” she fidgeted. “Are you... together?”

“On an almost daily basis” Sephiroth said flatly, not missing a beat.

The eyeroll the General received in return was so akin to his own Genesis couldn't resist laughing. When the two of them looked at him like he was barmy he raised his hands in protest.

“Just...appreciating the synonymy” he chortled.

“Right” Aerith said slowly. “I meant like, are you _together_ together.”

“All day long” the younger man sighed as if indeterminably weary, tilting his head up to look at the rafters.

And Sephiroth was definitely screwing around, but Genesis was too delighted with it to correct him. His sister was scowling at the green-eyed SOLDIER like he was a bug she'd forgotten to spray with pesticide.

“Well fine, if you're going to be that way” she huffed.

“What way?” the General countered, widening his eyes in a completely transparent gesture of innocence.

“Seph, knock it off” Genesis snickered, lifting a hand to cover his grin. “We're together, yes...in that way. But it's a long story.” He hesitated. “Do you...do you know anything else about us? Our history?”

The auburn-haired woman sighed and looked down.

“Not a lot” she admitted. “I...I can talk to the planet sometimes.” Green-blue eyes glanced at Genesis. “I'm surprised that you don't, you haven't mentioned it anyway. It's not all the time, and Gaia... she's... she's not objective. Nothing she says is concrete. She doesn't particularly like Shinra, and she hates _him.”_ She jerked her head at Sephiroth, who scowled. “I don't know why, sometimes I just get feelings. But she's afraid of him for some reason. I've never felt her fear anything before.”

“...And me?” the redhead asked quietly.

Aerith hesitated, narrowed her eyes somewhat as if listening for something.

“It's...muddled” she murmured, a thin thread of exasperation wending its way into her tone. “She's... coldly indulgent?

“So, basically, Circinae” Genesis said flatly. “My adoptive mother” he supplied when he received a confused look. “She's kind of the same.”

His sister's expression was understanding.

“You have a premeditated perspective” Sephiroth cut in, his tone not accusatory.

Aerith shrugged.

“Sort of... it's hard to explain. I knew I was going to face you one day, in a bad way. But that doesn't seem right now. It's hard to talk to you when there's this... sensation of _no_ and _danger_ in the back of my head. You don't seem like you want to hurt me…” she trailed off when the silver-haired FIRST looked away, his expression troubled.

“I…” the General cleared his throat. “I feel that you’re a threat.” When the woman opened her mouth to speak he raised a hand. “I know it's irrational, it's just there. I won't act on it.”

“You certainly won't” Genesis muttered, side-eyeing him suspiciously. “And what's up with you being all forthcoming and shit?”

Sephiroth shrugged-which was also distinctly un-Sephirothish-but didn’t reply...turning instead to their previous topic.

“You’ve always been good with materia. Cetra are said to be deeply connected to the planet’s spiritual energy.”

Aerith looked contemplative.

“It does make sense” she said slowly. “Though if you’re good at that, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to talk to the planet. Maybe you’ve never tried…?”

Genesis shrugged and winced.

“Could be. Hell if I know, but it’s been convenient in battle and it got me noticed early.”

“Do you know what’s causing…?” Aerith trailed away, glancing at the fine black lines that were slowly starting to encompass the entirety of the redhead’s neck.

“It’s a genetic anomaly, apparently” the Commander muttered. “One of the reasons my project failed and Sephiroth’s succeeded. “Hollander didn’t expect it to manifest, but according to the records, it was just a matter of time.” He grimaced. “I’m not a scientist, but from what I understand, I can’t absorb DNA, and absorbing DNA is what keeps the degradation at bay. Even if I was able to do that, it would be a lifelong thing...something I couldn’t go without for a long time. I don’t particularly dig the idea of essentially eating someone or something so that I can keep living, it’s too parasitic for my taste.”

“What about his cells?” his sister pointed at Sephiroth.

The General sighed, and looked distinctly discomfited.

“My cells are too volatile, according to Hollander and Hojo” he muttered. “I volunteered immediately, of course...but if it were that easy they’d have done it when Genesis was young in order to avoid the issue entirely.” He appeared to want to say more, but was clearly not comfortable discussing it in front of Aerith. “Regardless, it’s not an option.”

“I didn’t know that” Genesis muttered. “You never told me.”

“I was disappointed” the General admitted, tugging at his gloves. “And I didn’t think you’d care to hear about yet another failed endeavor.”

“Are you still looking?” the older man murmured.

The look the silver-haired man sent him was pained, and he didn’t press him further.

“You love him” Aerith said quietly, looking at Sephiroth. Both men stiffened, and Genesis opened his mouth to steer the topic away but she plowed on. “You love him more than anything.” She smiled, brilliantly. “That’s beautiful.”

Yet again, the redhead was somewhat staggered by the fact that anyone would have the audacity to speak to the General so openly. And it seemed that in turn, Sephiroth was willing to be forthcoming with her. He supposed-in a moment of embarrassed humor-that it made sense in a way. If someone was going to be ‘loudmouthed’ to Shinra’s finest, it would be his sister. Risking a glance at his partner, the Commander found himself observed in a way that made him feel a little bit wobbly. Those emerald eyes were soft, considering, and affectionate. Swallowing, Genesis looked down before he made a complete and utter idiot of himself.

“I won’t deny it” was the calm reply.

Okay, so _maybe_ Genesis was degrading a little faster than he’d thought. Because he could have just sworn that Sephiroth had said he loved him; offhandedly and casually, as if it was something he’d known for a while and simply chosen not to bring up. Blinking stupidly, the redhead looked up to find Aerith grinning at him, her bow somewhat lopsided. Glancing to his right, he acknowledged that the younger man was looking at him seriously...his expression both solemn and apprehensive. And _fuck_ was that a bombshell, one that he would have killed to hear maybe a month or two ago. Now, with his demise lingering on an imminent horizon, the only emotions that rose up to meet such a declaration were guilt and panic. Because if Sephiroth _loved_ him, his death was going to _destroy_ him. He heard himself make a choked, aggrieved noise, his vision blurring somewhat. The agonized, conflicted feelings in his psyche coagulated into that of rage, and he couldn’t stop it. His chest constricted, as if someone had grabbed his heart and squeezed it until it stuttered to a halt.

“Fuck you” he gasped. “Oh, _fuck you_ -!”

Aerith inhaled sharply even as the General paled and seemed to shrink away, silver brows knotting together in confusion.

“I don't-”

“-You can't!” Genesis snarled, and the venom in his tone tasted foreign and insidious, even to him. “You're not supposed to, it's not the way it has to be.”

“It's not like I had a choice” Sephiroth snapped,his own ire rising. “And I'm sorry if it upsets you-”

“Bullshit!” the redhead yelled, forgetting himself completely. “You have a fucking choice!” He struggled for a moment, choking on his words. “Take it back! _Take it back right now-!_ ”

-The colors in the room slurried together in a haze of green, yellow, and gray...fading into black. There was a trickle of warmth running from his nose to his chin and his mouth was filling with something pungent and sour. Someone-more than one someone-made an exclamation of horror. Pain exploded across the back of his ribcage, like a Marlboro dragging its jaws horizontally along his spine. His fingers stiffened, clenched and unclenched. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that he had fallen out of the pew, onto the hard wooden floor as he scrabbled for purchase. There was a loud, wet, tearing sound; the crunch of bones and flesh and the reverberation of something unfurling like a massive umbrella. He could hear himself screaming, as if from far away, feel two sets of hands lifting him, attempting to give him some semblance of balance but he couldn't see past the agony, rage, and confusion.

Then-abruptly-it stopped. Genesis was left shivering on the church floor in a pool of red and black blood. Sephiroth was kneeling beside him, and there was something so wrong about a man of his stature kneeling...but he couldn't think straight to ascertain exactly what it was. His body felt like it had been ripped in half, every muscle ached with the strain of whatever had passed over him. Reluctant to face whatever development had manifested this time, the redhead closed his eyes and shuddered violently...spitting to his left to dispel the awful, acrid taste lingering in his mouth. Distinctly, he was aware that something was wrong...that it was too quiet. There was a sensation of shock and incredulity lingering in the corners….as if the universe held bated breath in anticipation of his reaction. And he couldn’t really blame them, he thought bitterly. He’d just rejected Sephiroth’s declaration violently, inexcusably. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, he should never have lashed out that way...there was no rhyme or reasoning behind it.

 _“‘...Wings of dark and light spread afar.’”_.

He’d gone positively insane.

On no normal or abnormal day would Sephiroth be caught quoting _Loveless._ Shivering, almost laughing with the bizarreness of it all, Genesis shifted, tried to bring himself up. Something moved with him, some...extension of himself that seemed to be attached to his shoulder blade. ...Okay, a mutation. A mutation he could deal with, he just had to gather the courage to open his eyes and look. There was the sensation of touch, of a hand running down something long and glossy and massive. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. It towered over him, like the darkest of shimmering, feathery nights born on avic shoulders.

Spread like an obsidian monstrosity over his person...Sephiroth running pale fingers through night-colored pinions...was a giant, black, wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter moved a little fast. And Aerith feels somewhat...out of character. Maybe it's just me.
> 
> Some things to note  
> Degradation is marked by an inability to control rage, which was why Genesis was so helpless once he started to get angry. There's one or two unexplained reactions here (Sephiroth not going into detail about his cells being unfavorable, etc)). those will be addressed in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**
> 
> Edit: realized when Sephiroth was...entangled with the death materia that he was told _'you are not what they name you._ had to cut out the part where he said he chose his name because it's not synonymous with the plot.


	22. Chapter 22

"Wings are for girls.”

Sitting next to the distraught Commander on the floor of the chapel, Sephiroth twitched. Because of all the reactions he’d been anticipating, that was not one of them. Above them, the feathered, sweeping mass of Genesis’ wing fluttered softly; scattering black pinions onto the floor to be swept away into dark corners. Vaguely, he was aware that the woman-Aerith-was still perusing the infrastructure of the redhead’s newest development, her eyes wide with wonder. Small, pale fingers flitted between alulal and tertial plumage; skittering over rachis and barb like they were wonderous, celestial things.

And he supposed they were.

Of course, the rational part of his brain insisted that people did not have wings. He ignored it. Because Genesis wasn’t exactly what the General would classify as _’people’_...and neither was he. Nothing about their existence was particularly normal. In Hojo’s labs, he’d seen people peel off their skin to reveal seething, pus-filled abominations beneath. As far as his track record was concerned, plumage was rather tame. It was different-of course-when it came to convincing Genesis of the fact, but he hadn’t started screaming or trying to pull anything out, and he took that as a positive sign.This could be temporary, of course, but he’d take what he could get. Shifting, the silver-haired soldier picked up an idle feather, tracing the vane with his fingertips before letting it fall once more. This was-obviously-just a sign of further degradation...or so he assumed. Realistically, there was nothing positive about it, but he tried not to look at it that way, for Genesis’ sake.

“I wonder if you can fly.” Both men lifted their heads to look at Aerith, who was currently buried in a downy middle covert. Catching their gaze, she looked up and smiled. “Wouldn’t it be great?”

The Commander made a soft, disbelieving sound, his lips twisting into an expression that was half-amusement and half-incredulity.

“You...don’t think it’s ugly?....weird?”

She laughed.

“Sure, it’s weird” she giggled, and the redhead stiffened. “But it’s a _good_ weird, don’t you think?” She ‘hmmed’ softly. “And to think I thought I was going to spend my whole day tending flowers. It’s so much more interesting this way!”

Sephiroth wondered offhandedly if flagrant disregard was simply a genetic trait. Because this woman could just _not_ miss how upset the older man was with his most recent development. Casting a tentative glance to his left, the green-eyed SOLDIER was relieved to discover his partner didn’t look half as upset as he had five minutes ago. Which was-frankly-relieving. As much as he valued the redhead’s spirit, he didn’t particularly cherish the idea of trying to damage-control the fallout from a temper tantrum in this area of the slums. The paperwork alone would be intolerable. Genesis’ temper was tenuous as it was. He was prone to fits of completely irrational anger, sometimes in the middle of important meetings. Coupled with his somehow-still-concealed forgetfulness, Sephiroth occasionally felt like killing a lot of somethings. He knew that the older man couldn't help it, but it was extremely difficult to remember that when his partner was screaming at the top of his lungs about a missing dish towel that he'd accidentally put in the refrigerator.

Then...when everything had wound down and the blue-eyed SOLDIER was a trembling, shaking mess in the middle of one of their beds, the General was struck with the hysterical urge to crawl into a corner and stare blankly at the walls. Because while he was resilient in multiple facets of his life, watching someone he loved die was not exactly easy. Coupled with Genesis’ slowly degrading sanity, Sephiroth was often suffocated by the despair that seemed to hang about his shoulders every single day. Getting up, going through repetitive motions, kneeling on the bathroom floor while the redhead vomited into the toilet...it was wearing. A cool, discolored hand grasped his wrist and Sephiroth closed his fingers gently, automatically.

And yet, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else...doing anything else. Every time he had a mission he spent it on agonized tenterhooks...waiting for the call from Angeal telling him that their time had come to an end while he was hundreds of miles away. Logically, he knew this was unlikely. The dark-haired FIRST would more than likely set up a video conference with just the three of them...but he still feared it. He didn't want to be physically absent...he was _horrified_ at the idea of his physical absence. It took every iota of his strength to obey executive orders, every miniscule facet of his resilience to walk out the door and direct his men in the field. He dreaded the day when he'd come home to an empty apartment...to the terrible, suffocating truth of loneliness. To the aching, horrendous emptiness devoid of musical laughter and fire and crass humor. Sephiroth wasn't exactly sure when he'd become so much of a sap, but he was very close to hating himself for his weaknesses.

Today was one of the good days.

Watching as Genesis experimentally shuffled his wing while Aerith babbled excitedly, the green-eyed FIRST acknowledged that a normal, non-degenerative Commander wouldn't be taking this quite so well. It was a staggering, ever-changing roil between violent highs and placid lows. The redhead had never been particularly emotionally temperate, but this was...different. This was the slow, insidious march of degradation encompassing his neurons...and it was only just beginning. He knew there would come a time when Genesis would realize how far he’d fallen. Ripping his gaze away, letting the fall of his hair obscure his face, Sephiroth clenched his free hand. When he did, if they hadn't found a solution, he would have to do good by his promise. Because he knew without a doubt that the Commander would not be willing to progress beyond that realization.

His realizational cognizance would be the end.

“Can you...put it back?”

Blinking, the General refocused on the siblings before him, watching as Genesis scowled and squinted; his wing flapping violently as he did so.

“I’m still...getting the hang of moving it” the redhead muttered. “Maybe if I…?” he appeared to be trying to explode, his face turning scarlet as he concentrated. Aerith burst out laughing.

“You don’t _want_ to know what that looks like” she gasped, tears forming in her eyes.

Sephiroth grinned as the older man blushed fuschia at her statement, muttering something that sounded like _’jerk’_ before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The color slowly dissipated from his cheeks as he concentrated, his hand lifting… the ring finger curling slightly over the bridge of his nose as the fore and middle just-barely brushed his forehead. There was another distinct crunching sound-reminiscent of when the wing first appeared-feathers scattered to and fro, and the appendage was gone as quickly as it had come. Only a giant rip in the back of the Commander’s coat was any indication it had been there at all. Aerith gave a small cheer, eyes sparkling. Genesis made a small sound of satisfaction, craning his neck to pull at the mess of his uniform.

“Guess I’ll have to do something so I don’t get arrested for public indecency every time I lose my temper” he muttered.

“I could do that!” Aerith said excitedly. “I mean, I’m not exactly a seamstress but I know my way around a needle and thread.”

“Most SOLDIERS do” Sephiroth muttered.

“Yes, but do you know how to _cross stich?_ ” she sniped, the wheels apparently turning in her head already. “Oh, and we could do a border or something. I think it would only have to be big enough for the axillar, the rest seemed to come after that.”

“Fashionable” the Commander sighed, smiling dreamily. “Definitely related.”

“You’re taking this well” the silver-haired FIRST said warily. Genesis’ smile slipped somewhat.

“I...I’m managing” he said, a thin vein of bitterness seeping into his tone. “Just barely.”

“We should take you out to the wastes next time you visit” the redhead's sister said excitedly. “To see if you can fly.” The two SOLDIERs glanced uncertainly at each other; Genesis’ expression weary, Sephiroth's apprehensive and grim. Aerith wilted. “Oh” she said quietly. “That soon?”

The somewhat delirious, mirage-esque mood that had hung over them for the past half hour dissipated as if it had never been. Genesis was staring at his gloves, his visage closed off and distant. The General took charge.

“...Hollander gave it four months” he said flatly. “It's been two, and administration doesn't want the Commander in the public eye once his condition becomes noticeable. When it does... he'll be confined to his rooms under guard.”

To her credit, Aerith controlled herself well. Aquamarine eyes filled with tears but she held them back, the nails of her left hand digging into the palm of the right until red half-moon indents were left in their wake. They then bunched in her dress until the younger man half-feared it would rip. The air seemed to coalesce with her despair; like the environment around them was reacting to her distress in unison.

“It's not fair!” she whispered.

Sephiroth looked helplessly at Genesis, who cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry” he said hoarsely.

 _This_ upset her.

“What do you have to be sorry for?!” she demanded, her voice rising as it broke on the jagged edges of hysteria. “What did you ever do to anyone?!”

The redhead chuckled darkly.

“I've killed a lot of people” he murmured. “Innocent people.”

“Because you had to” she murmured. “Because you didn't know anything else.”

No one argued with her.

“You could visit” Sephiroth said hesitantly.

“It's too dangerous” Genesis said harshly, even as Aerith shook her head.

“I'm...not allowed to wander past certain parameters” she murmured. “Someone...well...someone told me not to. I don't know his name” she added when they gave her curious looks. “He just...he always wears a suit...dark haired...not very tall...a dot on his forehead. Sometimes he comes to see me, but he never stays long.”

The bottom had dropped out of Sephiroth's stomach. His fellow FIRST was as white as a ghost.

“You're monitored by the Turks” Genesis choked.

Aerith looked confused.

“The who?”

“The Turks” the green-eyed SOLDIER said darkly. “The Intelligence branch of HQ.” He glanced at his partner, who looked confused. “If Shinra knows you're here, why hasn't Hojo ordered your retrieval?”

“He wants her to come of her own volition” the Commander muttered, the tone of his voice brokering no argument. “Earn her trust, reveal himself later. How long have you known Tseng?”

“That's his name huh?” Aerith murmured, looking downcast. “Two years maybe, not more.”

Sephiroth watched as the redhead closed his eyes and nodded.

“They will know we came here” the younger man said grimly. “And how long we stayed.”

Genesis’ eyes snapped open again and panic suffused his features.

“We need to clean this up” he muttered, gesturing at the blood and feathers around him. “If they see this they might take her in just for knowing too much.”

His sister's aquamarine eyes snapped to the General as if searching for confirmation. This surprised him, because he wouldn't have expected her to seek his opinion as well. Then, abruptly, he understood. Aerith was turning to him because she knew her brother's cognizance was in question...it didn't have anything to do with whether she liked him or not.Slowly, Sephiroth nodded.

“I'll get a broom” the auburn-haired woman chirped, turning to skirt the patch of flowers and disappearing into what he assumed was some sort of vestry.

“A mop would be better” the Commander murmured, running an unsteady hand through his hair.

Sephiroth didn't miss it.

“You are weary” he murmured.

A soft, weak chuckle was the initial response.

“Getting there” the redhead said hoarsely.

True to her promise, Aerith returned not only with a broom, but a bucket of water and a mop as well. Sephiroth jumped to help her, though for Genesis’ sake more than out of chivalry. Both of them shooed the older man back into a pew while they took charge of cleanup; the silver-haired FIRST following the woman with the mop as she swept black pinions into a large garbage bag and picked up bits of the redhead’s shredded coat. He feigned distraction when she slipped a mostly-clean piece of it into her pocket, along with a single downy feather. Sentimentality was foreign to him, but he found himself wishing he could do the same.

He didn't dislike Aerith-he reflected-not at all. That being said, he wasn't particularly fond of her, but she was clearly kind-hearted and well-meaning. She was obviously afraid of him...if not afraid, reticent. Her body language was avoidant and careful, even as she tried to be sociable. They spoke of easy things; of his time in the field, of his opinion on Midgar politics. Carefully, the young woman avoided any mention of his childhood, and he was grateful of it. He in turn asked only after her hobbies, and she spoke at length about her flowers and cooking and Elmyra. It was easy to talk to her, he discovered. Almost as easy as talking to Genesis. She wasn't profane or sarcastic like the man who was currently dozing in the pew to his right, but she was equally witty and similarly accepting. Her fear of him didn't come from his strangeness. Rather, it came from her uncontrollable foreknowledge and her prior experiences with Shinra.

By the time they had finished dusk was throwing yellow-red rays through stained glass... creeping up the altar in crystalline multicoloured explosions of twilight herald. Genesis was absolutely dead to the world and Sephiroth was reluctant to wake him; he got so little truly restful sleep. When Aerith knelt to look at her flowers, he followed her at a safe distance. Standing before softly bobbing fronds, he watched as the auburn-haired woman bent to pick up her trowel, placing it in a pale burlap bag he hadn't noticed before. Several other metallic things clicked softly as she did so and he guessed it wasn't the only gardening tool she had in her possession.

“People are like flowers” she said quietly. She smiled when he lifted a cynical brow, shaking her head and running a tender hand over a yellow petal. “For me anyway” she amended. “...They come in...so bright and so fast, sometimes overnight. You get used to them, to how they look in the sun and what they mean to you.” She sighed. “Then they wilt, faster than they bloomed most of the time. Winters are hard but there are always more flowers.” She bit her lip. “People don't come back in the spring.”

Sephiroth tried to quell the ache in his throat that rose with her words.

“They don't” he agreed tonelessly.

Aerith rose then, looking at him hesitantly, a nervous, slender hand fidgeting with her bow before apparently giving it up for a lost cause. Stepping forward, she reached out to take the silver-haired SOLDIER's palm, waiting patiently as he stiffened and then gradually relaxed. Her hands were miniscule in his-he realized-so fragile and tiny, like the bones of a bird in the claws of an eagle.

“Come see me” she whispered. He flinched and ducked his head away, with an insistent tug she pulled him back. “I told Zack the same thing, but I feel... differently for him than for you” she blushed when she said the youth’s name, and he understood. “But come see me, if not to visit then to tell me when...when it happens.” Her lip trembled but she steeled herself. “You are always welcome here, General” she said seriously.

Against his will, he felt his lips tilt up into what was perhaps a semblance of a smile. Behind them, Genesis was stirring.

“Sephiroth” he murmured, and she frowned questioningly. “You may call me Sephiroth.” 

* * *

 The walk back to HQ was long but not unpleasant. Sephiroth enjoyed the time away...let himself bask in the false sensation of freedom. Genesis had to stop often, and by the time they made it to the upper plate it was nearing 2200. Aerith had left them with a flower each; the Commander's a soft blue and the General's white. The redhead said that he wanted to press them when they got back. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he agreed. They took side streets up top, it wasn't late enough to wander common causeways without getting recognized; Midgar did have a nightlife. It took longer, but neither of them were in any particular hurry.

Their conversation was casual; deployments, Wutai, the bizarre VR hack that made the participant fight invincible chocobos. Sephiroth had discovered this hack purely by accident, and he'd spent the next three hours fighting giant, feathered monstrosities that absolutely refused to die. He’d never failed to kill anything non sentient before. By the time a hysterical tech arrived to kill the simulation, three-quarters of the room was destroyed and the General was so angry he couldn't look at a chocobo anymore without violent, irrational resentment and bloodlust. Genesis-of course-found this so hysterical he couldn't stop laughing for ten minutes once he was told. Every once in a while he still chortled to himself in a way that made the younger man somewhat furious.

_”'The wandering soul knows no rest.’”_

Sephiroth smiled crookedly, watching as the Commander tilted his head to look upwards. Greenish-blue light from the reactors spilled across his cheeks; shadowed by the twisting spires of tall steel skyscrapers. Flares of the Lifestream danced over sapphire pupils, their energy reflected in the mako that was infused within. Poetry was more common. He understood it. The redhead used it to ground himself, to keep from spinning away into a chain of endless degenerative memories and thoughts. He'd never explained it to such a degree, but it was easy to discern. Usually it came with lapses in activity or conversation, like now. Lately, the recitation was forceful, balanced more on the edge of tenuity than an idle concentration. He tried not to think about it.

“Hojo said my cells would drive you mad” Sephiroth muttered.

Genesis stopped and he copied him. Red hair streaked with silver shifted as his partner tilted his head to look at him. As was common now, particularly when he was tired, it took him a minute to gather his thoughts.

“...Did he say why?” the older man asked at length.

“Not to any great degree” the General said heavily, watching as a mother and child waited at a crosswalk for the indicators to give them passage. “Just that... components of my biology are incompatible with 99.9% of all other life forms.”

There was silence, and he returned his focus to the man beside him; feeling a soft thrill at the gentleness in those sapphire eyes.

“It's not your fault” was the husky murmur. The silver-haired SOLDIER shook his head, the weight of fruitlessness like a millstone about his neck. Genesis made a soft sound of consternation before grasping his hand to pull him into a dark side street. He acquiesced-mostly because it felt like he couldn't refuse the redhead anything anymore-but also because he was curious. He exhaled exhaustively as he was pressed into the cold, rough solidity of a concrete wall, letting his head fall into the soft crook of Genesis’ neck. Temperate lips brushed against his earlobe as he attempted to ground himself. He was overwhelmed-he knew, the older man knew- from meeting Aerith, from sharing with her as he'd shared with only one other. A part of him was panicked, certain of backlash from his verbal benevolence. It was irrational, he acknowledged, but it didn't make it go away. “You need to stop looking” Genesis whispered.

The sound that clawed its way out of the back of his throat was pained, protestant.

Leather-clad fingers clasped his jaw as his fellow FIRST pulled away, his gaze sweeping his visage solemnly. He expected it-and didn't-when the redhead reeled him in for a deep kiss. Mostly because it was public, and because the Commander so valued his privacy. Then again-he thought dimly as he hungrily opened his mouth to the advance of Genesis’ tongue-privacy wasn't going to matter much anymore...not for long. Shifting to free a trapped arm, he lifted it to gently shift through scarlet-silver strands as he surrendered to the gesture; his body moving of its own accord, undulating wantonly into the warm-firm physicality before him.

The scales between them were constantly shifting. Sometimes Genesis wanted nothing but abandon; to be held down and taken like it was the last time he'd ever feel something so powerful. Sephiroth didn't particularly like this dynamic, it made him lose control in a way that was primeval. In the throes of it, his mind was a distinct rubicund blur of ravenous lust, but afterwards, the bruises on pale skin were more than he could handle. Genesis was not unbreakable anymore, and he was painfully aware of it. He was far more appreciative of the gentle, languorous sessions they had in the morning; the fire of that hair pressing into an ivory pillow as he took him slow and deep; till he couldn't tell where he ended and Genesis began. They were more comfortable with each other, certainly. Sex was becoming a natural staple of their lives, something anticipated and not tentative. Groaning, the silver-haired SOLDIER nipped at the prurient pout of a lip in response to the hand that squeezed his covered erection before rubbing into his sex with the heel of a palm against his leathers.

Then there was this, this...not completely explored area of his physicality. Quickly, he'd become cognizant of the fact that his partner preferred to save such ventures for when they had time...when they could explore without fear of interruption or haste. Even more swiftly, the younger man had realized that he wanted more, faster. He wasn't satisfied with tongue, lips, or fingers at this point. Genesis was creative, experienced, and passionate...no one could take that from him. However, when everything was over, when he was laying spent and aching over the coverlets, he was still left with a clawing...ever-increasing hunger...to be claimed...to be filled.

Logically, he knew his response was instinctive, driven by the desire to breed...which was horrifying, and he shied away from it for as long as possible. A little over three weeks before, they'd come to the realization that he went through subtle estrus cycles even with the use of suppressants. Occuring once a month, they made him irritated and closed off, but more and more Sephiroth turned to his partner for relief. Then, one very late-or early-night during such a time, Genesis had crawled up the length of him to claim his mouth-the bulk of his cock rubbing between the folds of Sephiroth's arousal as he moved-and he hadn't thought-couldn’t stop-he’d simply acted, spreading his legs, tilting his hips forward and nudging the slick, hard girth of the redhead's erection against his equally slick entrance... Trying to find purchase, feeling his rim catching against the head, throbbing and wet… _hot_ , heavy, and _ohh_...pulling him in and _there-yes-_ just a little more and-

-He’d found himself ripped away, a pleading noise escaping his lips before he could stop it. And then Genesis had told him no, that they couldn't. When he was finished being absolutely mortified, both at his actions and at his rejection, the Commander had carefully explained his reasoning…need for a condom notwithstanding. And while the General didn't like it, he understood it.

Sephiroth shuddered. The scrape of the older man’s boot against gravel was distant as he ground against the curved palm pressed against his heat; closer, closer, and the redhead was murmuring obscenities in his ear, tongue curling to release the sort of filth that would have had him recoiling in disgust coming from anyone else. But from Genesis it was singularly, wantonly his...like scorching wind fanning flame instead of crassly dousing it. He shivered and flexed his fingers against dark vambraces, mouthing at the smirking red curve of that infuriating mouth until it opened for him. The silver-haired FIRST could feel that the blue-eyed SOLDIER was equally hard against his thigh, but he seemed content to drive him into indecorousness with little care for himself tonight. Sephiroth was slightly insulted that he thought he could get away with that. As he dragged a only-somewhat unsteady hand up the girth of the Commander's erection, he was disappointed when the redhead merely chuckled.

Cool, calloused fingers were unbuttoning his leathers, snaking down and past to rub, curl, and delve deep. Fingers sought, curved and pressed up into the silk of him and he said something that wasn't really anything at all; just the name of the man before him garbled and slurred.

“Hmm?” Genesis sighed, nuzzling his neck. “What do you want, Seph?” Teeth grazed his earlobe. “Tell me what you want.”

Focus was hard, purposeful verbalization was harder. He dug one hand into two-tone locks and let the other wander the length of the Commander's still-clothed dick; squeezed and gasped as those fingers inside him flexed slightly...distracting him.

“You” he said hoarsely. “I want you.” He dropped his head forward helplessly as orgasm began to creep up on him with dangerous speed. “All of you _in me_.”

He expected the man to stop then, to call for halt and chastise him. Instead, Genesis smile grew until it couldn't be called a smile anymore but a grin.

“Oh?” he said teasingly, letting his free hand cover the younger man's as he squeezed. Blue eyes grew unfocused for a minute before snapping back to him. “It's like that, huh?” he murmured. “Going through a heat phase?” a nip at his neck and he wanted to unhinge his legs. The General shuddered. “Makes sense” the older man muttered. “You've been blabbery today-” a sharp inhale. “-And you smell ridiculously good.” Another soft bite and those fingers left his to splay across his abdomen. “You want my cock?” Genesis purred, his eyes sparkling as Sephiroth choked on something that was half shock and half desire, those long, clever fingers curled inside him again and it wouldn't be long. Once more, silky lips were placed teasingly against the shell of his ear. “...Want me to give you my cum?” the scarlet-haired SOLDIER’s hand pressed down somewhat. “You want to give me little redheaded babies?”

And that should have made Sephiroth walk away.

Really, it should have made him punch the Commander in the face and then wipe the sidewalk with his remains. Instead, the picture it conjured in the younger man's mind made his cheeks flush and his eyes glaze over, hips snapping as his need swelled and he clenched desperately against rubbing, seeking fingers. His climax blinded him; blazing up his torso like the hiss of an electric current as wetness suffused his belly and thighs, his breath coming short through his nose. He might have called Genesis’ name, it was impossible to tell. It didn't matter considering the way his body ached in that delicious, grasping sort of way; with the sensations of release that had his tongue flicking over the edge of his lips only to be sucked into the warmth of a ravenous mouth. The peak of pleasure was ruinous; hot and continuous, tinged with that bittersweet tang of embarrassment and the subtle smell of his partner's subsequent orgasm. It left him shuddering and weak-kneed as the older man groaned his name, lips dancing over his jaw.

_”'My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess.’”_

Carefully, Sephiroth pulled away, fixing his uniform and cupping Genesis’ cheek as he waited for him to regather himself. The Commander shuddered hard, his eyes tightly closed as he attempted to retrieve the scattered threads of his thoughts. It was harder for the readhead to keep a level cognizance when the younger man secreted what amounted to buckets of pheromones, they had discovered. It tore at logical thought in a way nothing else did, and the degradation didn't help. After some time, his fellow SOLDIER sighed and cupped the back of his head; running his fingers through heavy platinum hair.

 _””The bringer of life’”_ he repeated. “But not for us. We can't.”

“Tell me why again” the General muttered, gritting his teeth.

Exhausted blue eyes made a study of his face.

“Why we can't have kids or why I won't fuck you?”

Sephiroth raised and eyebrow.

“The latter, I have no desire for the former.”

Carefully checking himself over to make sure he was no more disheveled than usual, the redhead leaned into him again.

“Because I want you to have something to give the next person you choose to love” he murmured. Genesis smiled teasingly. “And you seemed pretty damn ecstatic at the idea of bearing children seven minutes ago. I know you can't help it” he said soothingly when the General turned red and opened his mouth to protest. “I just...it was extremely sexy and I could probably die happy right now just from that memory alone.” He shook his head. “Regardless, you shouldn't toss that sort of thing on a dead man. I couldn't perform the way I'd want to for you, I wouldn't be able to give you my best. I can't do that.”

“You know that doesn't matter to me” the younger man grumbled.

Those lips formed a soft, somewhat sad smile.

“Yeah, I know. But it matters to me.”

It was a few minutes more before they left the alley behind, exiting back into the streets and deciding to take a slightly more public causeway back to HQ. People milled about here, some gave them awestruck glances but seemed to know enough to keep their distance. Passing a vendor's stall, Sephiroth watched as Genesis paused, bent over a colorful display to finger a necklace charm in the shape of an intricate silver tree. Small-no more than half an inch at most- it seemed to glow when the lamplight caught it, and the General knew it reminded him of the Sleeping Forest. The purveyor of the stand was quick to tell him its make and apparent rarity, and while the redhead listened patiently, it was obvious he thought it too extravagantly priced to purchase. When the vendor asked him if he'd like to buy it, the redhead opened his mouth to refuse, but the younger man beat him to it.

“We’ll take it” he murmured, handing over his chip and watching as the elderly man scanned it without preamble.

“Seph” Genesis protested half-heartedly, swallowing as his fellow FIRST refused the offer for packaging and instead reached forward to pull the butter-soft animal hide necklace from beneath the redhead’s collar.

“Just let me” he murmured, sliding the charm through the clasp and pulling it forward to settle next to the white dumbapple bead. Those sapphire eyes were heavy with affection as long fingers reached up to clasp the new addition, turning it so the light appeared to fill it with luminescence.

“Thank you” was the whispered reply.

Letting his lips curve into a smile, Sephiroth shook his head.

“No, thank you,Gen. For everything.” He let his fingertips linger on that scarlet collar for a moment longer before pulling away. “Let's go home.”

And as they turned to walk the few remaining miles back to HQ, neither of them noticed the shape in the shadows that watched them go... clutching a camera that now held a prize that Midgar’s press companies would possibly kill for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N;** I sort of wanted to do a Sephiroth POV of Aerith. So I guess this chapter and and the last could be considered a part 1  & 2\. I'm also considering going back and putting actual titles on each chapter. Not just for readers but because when I go back to refer it's a little difficult to find what I'm looking for just by number. 
> 
> The running theme in these last few installments is depressing, I know. It's been difficult to write, but when I began this I knew I didn't just want this to go from frenemies to happily ever after. A fair amount of my fics do that but the atmosphere I had in mind didn't allow for that. I also didn't want to rush this, because pace is equally vital, and this particular fandom is extremely precious to me. 
> 
> There is a lot of stuff that needs to be wrapped up and expounded on but I'm content with taking it a chapter at a time. 
> 
> Also, this chapter, it's been a while since I did a Seph POV of anything hot and heavy. That was fun. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS** : Explicit detail of death(sort of death). Lots of emotional imagery. I struggled to write this. This was indescribably difficult. The ending may not be what you expect but...this was tough. It's why I've been gone longer than usual. This is probably going to be the most difficult chapter in this fic. (hopefully).

Sunlight.

Genesis had never particularly thought about it before. Stretching under a thin coverlet, the redhead relished the warmth of the morning light spilling in through the windows. As a child, he'd taken the sky for granted. Mostly because it was always there, and because kids didn't dwell on things like that. In SOLDIER he saw the sun so little he grew accustomed to it; the steely, polluted grey mixed with green became commonplace. When the weather was clear he'd always been too busy to appreciate it. His duties took up so much of his time he'd never stopped to look at what was around him. Ironically, it was much the mirror of his youth; ignorance based on preoccupation. Fuzzily, he wondered if other people were so appreciatively negligent. What other seemingly meaningless things had he missed out on because he'd been too busy? It seemed almost inexcusable...to get so caught up in an industry of self-promotion that you forgot about the little things...the things you might miss when you were gone.

Here, now, the sunrise bloomed across the length of his back; soothing the now-constant ache that seemed to permeate to his very core. It was illusory, he knew. The minute he moved reality would come crashing back in a wave of black agony; like the surge of a necrotic tide suffusing his limbs. You never really got used to it. The mako in his system didn't help in the least, not anymore anyway. Hollander had promised that regular injections might prolong his longevity to a miniscule degree, but now that seemed to be failing as well. Tseng and Reno had come to his apartment about a week prior, before his shift started. Tonelessly, yet sporting the posture of a man physically shriveling with contrition, the red-headed Turk had informed Genesis that the time to remain confined to his quarters was upon him. Strangely, he hadn’t been as upset about it as he’d expected himself to be. Probably because he’d been anticipating it. No, even he knew that grey pallor creeping into his facial features was a pre-herald to the end of his service. If he was being generous, he’d probably say that Shinra had let it go as long as they were physically able.

 _”Rhapsodos.”_ Tseng had called him back before he closed the door, the tone of his voice barely above a whisper. Turning, he was faced with the picture of a man defeated, his usual mask of indifference gone as if it had never been. Sighing, the Commander had braced himself for a flowery, heartfelt apology; one he’d become accustomed to over the past few months. _”You should know that Miss. Gainsborough’s safety is of utmost priority to the Turks.”_

He hadn’t expected that, but he’d appreciated it. Even if such a promise hung on tenterhooks of political dogma and company regulations...it still held value. The fierce, determined look in the other man’s eyes told him that Tseng might feel something more for the small, auburn-haired woman tending flowers in a dilapidated church….but it also told him that he knew it could never be. Reno was conspicuously, uncharacteristically silent, his eyes downcast. As hard as he tried, Genesis couldn’t bring himself to be social with them. The Turks had never been an integral part of his everyday life apart from select missions, and he didn’t know them well enough to go to the trouble of reassuring them. A part of him acknowledged that this was a shallow mindset; that the majority of the public would absolutely lose their shit once they learned of his death. He wasn’t a prominent spokesperson for no reason at all, people loved him. He didn’t want to spend his last days ruminating over the impact of his demise, however. There was nothing positive about it, and he wasn’t going to be around for the aftermath.

“Gen, it’s 0800.”

Smiling, the redhead inhaled as cool, slender fingers traced his spine through the coverlet; following the slope of his back to rest carefully at the base of his spine. Exhaling, he opened his eyes and smiled tiredly at Sephiroth, who was perched on the edge of the bed. The man in question returned the gesture, but it was anxious, tinged with a carefully veiled sadness. It was harder for him to get up and get moving, especially now. Having the General as his personal alarm clock was some kind of fangirl wet dream, but he was grateful. Genesis could easily spend his days laying around in bed without a motivator, and he hated to be unproductive. In the morning, he fielded a plethora of reports before taking lunch. Most of his calls were taken by his secretary, people had a habit of asking where he was and he didn't relish coming up with a mundane explanation. He knew it was somewhat pointless... working his way to the grave; but there wasn't really anything else to do. Training was out of the question and the war with Wutai limited time he might otherwise spend with his fellow FIRSTs.

Angeal visited when he could, but with his fellow Commander effectively off-duty the demands placed upon him by the Brass were ever -increasing. His childhood friend was spending more and more time in the field, and what with the rumors of Zack rising from Cadet to THIRD to SECOND in astoundingly quick succession, Genesis supposed he was seeing the rapid ascendance of his successor in real time. He tried not to let it bother him, Shinra evidently had some weird rule of three, and his permanent absence was apparently throwing everything off. It was hard to ignore, however, the wild ways the media was highlighting his apparent ‘disappearance’. Rumors ranged from MIA, to AWOL, to POW to eloping with Sephiroth. Because apparently some idiot of a reporter had stumbled upon them when the General was slipping the tree charm around his neck and assumed it was a proposal.

A picture was splattered across the news the next day and the sight of it drove the silver-haired FIRST into hysterics. He proceeded to drink two bottles of Quadrian Tequila; when Hojo called him down he’d laughed wildly into his comm and told him to fuck off. It was-evidently-the first time he had done this. When the Retrieval Squad came to drag him to the labs he’d gone amicably, if not steadily. Half an hour later he’d returned looking no worse for wear. By word of mouth, Genesis learned the Department was so disgusted with him they’d canceled the appointment and told him to come back when he was sober. Sephiroth was-apparently-obnoxious enough ‘disciplining’ him was ineffective. Said ‘obnoxiousness’ involved the General slurring into a tech’s shirt collar that 'his best friend’ was dying and calling Hojo ‘Dad’. A mortified Sephiroth confirmed this several hours later and it was so funny Genesis couldn’t bring himself to be angry about it. Several months of sobriety had lowered his levels of alcohol tolerance an embarrassing amount. If there was ever a way to fall off the wagon, that was probably the best method he’d ever heard of.

And he liked the picture, anyway. Upon seeing it, Genesis had begged Angeal to laminate a copy and bring it to him whenever he got the chance. This was easily done, as the picture was pretty much everywhere within twenty-four hours. It wasn’t so much the actions within the shot that were telling; it was their expressions. Sephiroth’s face was a mask of careful affection; frozen in a single take for all eternity. Genesis in turn was ruefully tender, his head tilted somewhat as he clasped the pendant to his chest. Rumor had it that it was plastered on all four corners of the Garters and Gorgon’s; along with a three-day reenactment of the apparent ‘proposal.’ The redhead was sincerely sorry to miss it. He wasn’t entirely sure when necklaces had replaced rings for symbols of matrimony but the excitement was worth it. Circinae called him within two hours of the broadcast; informing him that while his father was disgusted she was absolutely thrilled.

* * *

 “Genesis, it’s 0800.”

Frowning, the aforementioned man blinked and groaned. The warmth of the morning was gone, replaced by an overcast, cloudy day. Hadn’t the sun been out a couple minutes ago? The ache in his body was virulent and overpowering...suffocating in its intensity. And it couldn’t be 0800, Sephiroth had told him that the last time he’d spoken to him. A part of him whispered that something was off, but he couldn’t place it. The constant, bone-deep weariness crawling through his veins was far greater. Raising his head, the Commander pressed a hand to his face and wavered for a moment before focusing on the green-eyed SOLDIER before him. The man in question tilted his head, reaching forward as if to touch his cheek before apparently thinking better of it.

“W’day izz’it?” Genesis groused.

“Friday” was the calm reply. “Are you hungry?”

 _Friday?_ , he could have sworn it was Wednesday….or was it? He couldn’t remember. Kicking the covers off, the redhead attempted to sit up...only to find that he couldn’t. Swearing, he flopped back into the pillows and scowled at the ceiling. Briefly, he entertained the idea of eggs on toast.

He nearly threw up.

“Not hungry” he muttered.

His partner 'hmm'ed’ in acknowledgment before standing and pulling the blinds open. The additional light was irritating, but it would help him get moving.

“It might interest you to know that Godo Kurasagi is dead.”

The sense of despair that came with Sephiroth's statement was irrational, but it still affected him. Because he'd wanted to do more...for Shinra...for SOLDIER especially. Wutai would fold now, undoubtedly. Without a figurehead, they were an anchorless nation; victim to the whims and whiles of others who wished them ill. It seemed viciously ironic; that saving the monks... getting the wound that had initiated his degradation...it had all been for nothing. Genesis wasn't a stranger to bitter irony, however, and while he resented it...he didn't dwell on it. It would have been easier-he supposed-to just burn HQ to the ground. Sephiroth probably wouldn't have approved, but at least he'd have done _something_. Or, he could have taken Hollander up on his whole clone army thing, but desertion wasn't his style. Maybe, in some distant parallel universe he'd have had the balls to do something completely crazy, but there were too many factors bolstering his reticence for all-out rebellion. In a way, he was disappointed with himself.

“...When I…” the redhead stopped and coughed, wincing as his mouth filled with a now-familiar acrid taste. There was a sensation of warmth over his lower lip, and he accepted the handkerchief the General offered without comment. He didn't look at it when he tossed it in the bin; he knew from experience that it would be smeared with black. “When you have to do this alone, what are you going to do?”

Green eyes hardened.

“I'm going to finish this” was the dark response. When Genesis looked skeptical he grimaced and looked away. “Shinra has taken too much from me at this point for me to be forgiving” he murmured. “I will see this through, even if I have to lose my honor to do it.”

“I’m not asking you to” the Commander said weakly. “Gaia, it was hard enough moving forward with the two of us. Alone-” he broke off when he noticed the younger man’s expression. “-Sorry, I’m just trying to get a clearer view of your future.”

Sephiroth’s jaw tightened as he closed his eyes, balling his hands into fists before apparently forcing them to relax.

“Genesis, I’m going to have a very hard time _having_ a future once..once-” he stood abruptly, putting distance between them to lean into a corner of the room, folding his arms as he did so. “I'm sorry, I can't discuss this.”

The redhead nodded ruefully, deciding it was for the best. Instead, he focused once more on getting out of bed. The room swam somewhat, but he was otherwise able to swing his legs over the side of the mattress. Weirdly, he wasn't in as much pain as before. More prominent now was a fuzzy, somewhat detached sensation that made his head feel like it was full of cotton. Getting up was not so simple, and in the end Sephiroth was able to coax him into acquiescence so that he could take a shower. Once there, he didn't allow him to stay. The older man knew his limits, and he was fully capable of getting clean by himself. Standing under the spray, he hurried through the process; looking at his body was self-defeating. Once the temperance of heated water soaked into his muscles, however, he found himself reluctant to leave. He had few moments like this anymore...when the agony was absent and there was only a residual... lingering ache. In earlier days he might have taken it as an opportunity to have sex, but the General had flat out refused him two weeks ago. Grimacing, Genesis lifted his right arm to cup the elbow of the opposite; watching as soap splattered onto the tiles below to sluice into the drain.

It had surprised him...the knowledge that Sephiroth wanted him that way. He'd never been concerned about the topic coming up, because he assumed the younger man wouldn't be forthright enough to pursue it. More than ever he resented his fate, because it prevented him from being in his fellow FIRST'S life as he could have been. But no matter how reticent he was about dying, he couldn't let him throw that sort of thing away because he was afraid of being alone. And Sephiroth was _very_ frightened of loneliness. It was hard not to be upset about it, because he was the cause. The guilt had nearly consumed him upon hearing his initial diagnosis. As time wore on, he'd accepted things as they were... grudgingly. Acceptance didn't mean he had to lose it, he just had to make peace with it. That was-of course-easier said than done. It was especially difficult when he was sprawled between long, pale legs with his tongue buried in the hot, wet channel of Sephiroth's sex while the man in question groaned for more.

Exhaling in a rush, Genesis swallowed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the shower wall. Moisture coalesced to cling to the tips of his lashes before he shook it away. He hadn't told his parents. Not out of cruelty, really. No, it was for the simple fact that he didn't want to make a spectacle of it. Shikro would sue; of that he was sure. His main drive would be money, for a 'failed’ son, and he would get it. Circinae would be hysterical, but he didn't want her to remember him like this. Better that her recollections consisted of a visually healthy version of him...a son that was whole and not wasting away. There were too many important people in his life that were already enduring this with him, and while he didn't consider his adoptive mother as important as Angeal or Sephiroth, he still acknowledged her place in his life. Itrine was more difficult...he hadn't allowed himself to think about it. He was fairly sure it would break her.

* * *

 “Gen, it's 0800.”

There were...flowers blooming out of the sheets. Genesis shivered and tried to move. Couldn't. A distinct, cottony taste appeared to be gluing his tongue to the top of his mouth. He groaned and blinked... blinking took so much effort. Somehow, he was dressed. By his recollection, he'd been standing in the shower. Maybe he'd forgotten…? Or maybe he dreamed it. That seemed appropriate. Lucid dreaming was common for him, even when he wasn't shriveling away. Turning his head took effort, but he managed to position himself to glance at the sky; it was raining. Huge, round droplets scattered onto chrome and steel in aqueous bursts. Jagged forks of lightning stabbed across an iron colored sky. Through the white-slatted blinds he could faintly see the shape of a chopper making its way to the landing pad. Vaguely, he wondered if it was Angeal...he was supposed to come back sometime soon but the dates escaped him.

The bed shifted as someone sank down next to him. Swallowing, the blue-eyed SOLDIER focused on his partner….it took a long time. Sephiroth looked like shit. That was saying a lot, because Genesis was thoroughly convinced that you could roll the younger man in fertilizer and he'd still come out looking magnificent. There were deep shadows under his eyes; like pale bruises on alabaster skin. His hair was distinctly unkempt, though he'd obviously tried to make an effort before waking him up. It was pulled back and tied at the base of his neck; like something you'd do to keep it out of the way of bodily fluids. The Commander had seen him do it only once before, when a Cadet took a gut wound in the field and was spilling bile and intestinal refuse as they carried him back to the encampment. The General's gaze was haunted…something that wasn't particularly unusual for him; but Genesis got the distinct feeling that he was the reason behind it. He was dressed simply; in those terrible sweatpants and a navy blue sweater the redhead didn't think he'd ever seen on him before. Further inspection proved that it was actually _his_ sweater, he found that absolutely adorable. Yet another part of him acknowledged that this indicated that the green-eyed FIRST hadn't left his apartment in several days. Sephiroth could be romantic, but he wasn't sappy enough to wear someone else's clothes for emotional gratification.

“I had the weirdest dream” Genesis muttered. “You woke me up and I took a fucking shower. You'd think my brain would be more creative than that.”

Emerald eyes tightened around the edges, features perfectly blank.

“Odd” was the toneless response.

Frowning, the redhead shifted, winced as something pulled against his right arm. Following the source of the discomfort, he was greeted with the sight of the aforementioned limb hooked to an IV; a clear, colorless liquid running through the tubing to feed into his arteries. A sense of dread mingled with betrayal and disappointment flooded his psyche. Suddenly, the lack of pain made sense...as did the strange...detached weightlessness. The label on the bag was unmistakable; fentanyl. Genesis didn't know of a more powerful painkiller.

“You fucking drugged me” he rasped.

For some reason, Sephiroth's expression didn't change…and the only reason that could be was if they'd had this discussion before.

This-if anything-served only to upset him more. He tried to reach for the peripheral line; couldn't bring himself to do it. Panic clouded his vision. His heartbeat suddenly seemed thunderously loud in his ears. Abruptly, his stomach rebelled, and the emesis basin that appeared before him was offered in such a habitual, casual way he wanted to throw something. Because all relevant signs indicated that he was being _nursed_ and hell did that piss him off. Hadn't he driven it home that he didn't want to get to this point? Helpless... bedridden….unable to do anything for himself? He'd _told_ Sephiroth he didn't want this. There was absolutely no fucking reason he should have to suffer this. It wasn't fair; was a direct disregard to his final wishes. His stomach was-apparently-empty. When he'd finished dry heaving he flopped back onto the pillows and dug his fingers into snow white hair, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes. Gentle, familiar hands prised him away; cupped between two large palms that were calloused and warm.

“Gen…”

“Fuck you” he choked. “Fuck- _ughh_...”

Acidic; the bile that rose over his tongue...like the slow advance of a black wave. It caught in his throat, washed over tonsils and sinuses until he was drowning in it...the noise of his physical asphyxiation distant in his ears. Someone would revive him; he was sure of it. That someone being the General. Because of course he couldn't let him die. Genesis was fairly sure he'd have done the same. That didn't change the fact that he was angry about it... didn't change that he was being forced to hang on by a thread... didn't change the singular truth that the younger man didn't love him, not as much as he wanted him to. Because if he truly loved him, truly wanted to see the best for him...he would let him die. And Sephiroth didn't love him enough to let him go.

Darkness swallowed him.

* * *

 “Gen, it's 0800.”

Heavy. So heavy. His physicality felt as if it was made of iron and lead. It was like spinning in the endless, soundless, depthless void of space; like sinking into the yawning event horizon of a black hole….past the point of no return...crushed by the massive weight of infinite gravity. Breathing took monumental effort, every corner of his psyche was focused on the next gasp-the next rattling inhalation-his lungs seeking oxygen that would be pointless very soon.

“Seph” he slurred, unable to stop the full-body tremors that followed the incredible strain it took to vocalize.

“Don't talk” was the swift response. Something touched him; hands...so soft in their descent across his cheek, thumbing the bow of his lip in a gesture that was achingly familiar.

“Y-you have t-” he gasped and shuddered. “You have to let me go.”

The hand trembled somewhat, drew away from him. There was a shaky exhale and the sense of intimate nearness.

“I don't know how.”

Whispered, broken… _shattered_ and Genesis understood...he did. But he was _so tired._ So tired. He was floating away... caught in an endless... rippling current of green. It rose in him...started at his toes and swept up to his head, hovering at the edge of his lips. He swallowed it down, forced himself to focus.

“I can't live like this” he murmured, stretching out a trembling hand... searching until it was caught up in the long, deceptively gentle digits of another. He squeezed, as much as he could. “Don't... remember...losing _days_. M’not-” he struggled, fighting against the cloud of finite peace trying to claw its way past his consciousness. “- _Me_...not me. A shell. D-don’t do this anymore. S’not good...for me, for you…” Sephiroth said something, something low, too low for him to make out. Genesis tried to open his eyes, managed only one, smiled in a way that he hoped was comforting. “Love you” he garbled. “I'll _always_ love you...even if-” he broke off and the world shattered...spiraled into a kaleidoscope of white light. “-Even if...not...here.” Vaguely, he heard the door to his apartment bang open. “You...you gave me…”

He couldn't keep going. Everything was a jumbled mess of thoughts. Genesis was accosted with a series of recollections; of his father standing over him at a dinner party...stern and seemingly impossibly tall. Circinae...the edge of white lace over a graceful neck; the curve of her lips as she cupped his cheek and cooed his name. Itrine, holding him as he sprawled in his bed,sobbing into the pillows as his back burned from the most recent beating. ... Angeal...Angeal laughing as he sent a dozen red balloons into the sky for his twelfth birthday...Angeal punching him in the face for kissing his girlfriend...Angeal rejecting his terrified offer of romance. Standing in a field, surrounded by bodies, the sky above so grey it was nearly black as blood sluiced down Rapier's blade. One of his fellow cadets exploding into a million pieces as he stepped on a landmine. Sephiroth... Sephiroth as he'd first seen him; cold, detached and distant as they were introduced...the tortured green of those beautiful eyes. Sephiroth smiling, _laughing_ at some terrible offhand phrase Genesis had said that he hadn't even meant as a joke. Sephiroth curled around him...lax against the expanse of his back as he slept. Aerith...Aerith bent over her flowers, one hand pressed over her mouth as she shook with soundless sobs. And Goddess, _he didn't want to die._ Not when he had so much to live for, but he couldn't go on like this anymore.

Someone was shouting something...he was moving...arms and legs tumbled about until he was maneuvered onto a flat, unforgiving surface. He was accosted with the sense of incredible haste, of two urgent voices hissing above him as he was transported who knows where. And could they just _stop_ trying to drag his sorry ass from the grave?? He was almost there and it was so comfortable, so peaceful...so _quiet._ Someone was there... waiting for him. She was beautiful, with eyes as blue as his own and a gentle, loving smile that made his heart ache. Her form was corporeal...like the elusive glimmer of a lightning bug hovering on the edges of reality. His name...she said his name...softly, sweetly...like she'd waited an eternity to say it. ... But she was shaking her head, her expression understanding yet firm and that was confusing...as was the way she refused to get any closer to him.

There was a resounding, cacophonous _***bang***_ and the lights were so bright he couldn't focus on anything else. People were rushing back and forth but he couldn't see them. A familiar, baritone voice was snarling something... vocalizing in a way that Genesis had never heard before...caught on the edge of control and utter loss of reason. A warmth was spreading through him... something healing... something incredibly powerful and all-encompassing. But he couldn't _breathe_ and he was tired...so fucking tired. All he ever seemed to be was tired.  
There was a howl...inhuman, unhinged like the last gasp of a placid day at sea crumbling in the wake of an advancing hurricane. Someone screamed, lots of someones were screaming. Angeal...Angeal was shouting and there was a scattering of…. _what??_ across his face...down his shoulders. Genesis flinched as something warm, wet, and mildly sticky splattered across his face. There was the sense of explosion...of escape and the coldness of exterior air.

He lost the fight with his consciousness…

* * *

 ...When Genesis woke, the degradation was gone. Strapped to a medical gurney, he was drenched in blood and what seemed like hundreds of black feathers. Angeal was sitting by his side with his head in his hands. Craning his neck gave way to the view of an innumerable amount of bodies...it was impossible to tell. Limbs were flung here and there...strewn across chrome and steel surfaces like so much refuse. There was a giant hole ripped through the ceiling of the Science Division; straight up into the sky above...rain was falling through it.

But more prominent than that...more prominent than the fact that he was _alive_ and healed...was the singular truth that Sephiroth was gone...and the emptiness that followed this realization was nearly enough to kill him all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can see Genesis is not dead. But a lot of things are coming to a head right now. Honestly I had a depressive episode right in the middle of it and it was so hard to finish this chapter. Hopefully, the subsequent ones will be better, but there is a lot to pull together at this point. If you know what was used to heal Genesis shh! But I'll give you a hint; it's 100% a canon factor. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> Edit; Hojo's reaction to the whole news thing may seem off, but remember that as far as he's considered Genesis has a chronic diagnosis with no visible cure, so all he has to do is wait around for him to die before he reconditions Sephiroth or so he thinks. (Good luck with that doc,, looks like your protegee has gone AWOL with a side of heartbreak, bacon and crazy)
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	24. Chapter 24

Sephiroth flew to Nibelheim.

In hindsight, he didn’t particularly know why; only that the rain over Midgar was partially blinding him and he knew that there were at least six choppers on his tail. It was difficult-he discovered-to fly with just one wing. Granted, it was fully functional, but the angle...the size...the speed...it was awkward to say the least. Strategically, it was a poor move...if he was trying to get away from Shinra. He wasn’t sure yet. Realistically, he couldn’t run forever. Wutai wasn’t a safe haven anymore and there would be a bounty out for his head within the next twenty four hours. He knew how company policy worked; how far you could push administration before they decided you were more of a liability than an asset. Sephiroth had killed eight lab techs, six junior scientists and four security guards. He’d then proceeded to decapitate Hollander because-as far as he was concerned-he was not helpful in the slightest. He was more than a liability; he was a wanted criminal.

The Upper Plate was burning.

This was accidental, because he’d flown himself straight into a reactor hoping to never come out again. The reactor had exploded and taken out most of its designated sector. He himself was unscathed. Figuratively. He’d had third degree burns for maybe five minutes before they faded. The General also had the privilege of hearing the agonizing deaths of a third of the population; men, women, and children. In the past, he’d been labeled as a killer and it never bothered him. There was-so he thought-a distinct divide between being a killer and murderer. He killed because he had to, because he was under orders. Shinra made it incredibly easy to forget that the people they dispatched had lives of their own; dutiful morality was a definition cadets learned almost immediately. Now, _now_ he was a murderer.

But Genesis was dead.

Sephiroth nearly veered into a cliff as the thought crossed his mind. Not that he hadn’t agonized over it before, but it didn’t seem to get better whenever he tried to bring it up again. He had assumed that at some point he’d come to the realization that this was his new reality, but it never happened. He’d always been efficient at accepting mortality in the past; but this time it was different. Watching the heart monitor go from a few, negligent blips to flatline was traumatic in a way he wasn’t ready to analyze. Something in him had rebelled at the awfulness of it, at the truth that this signaled the end of what was only just beginning. Partially, he’d been cognizant of Hewely’s collapse; of the way he’d staggered and fallen to his knees next to the gurney like his legs just wouldn’t support him anymore. Angeal had worked just as tirelessly as he had to find a solution for his childhood friend. Dimly, through the haze that was the agony of his partner dying, the silver-haired SOLDIER was aware of how haggard the man was getting, of how hopeless his expression had become. And he’d _promised_ himself that he would be there for his fellow FIRST, but in the end impulse had won over him. A primal, instinctual part of him howled for revenge; for bloodshed in recompense for the death of his mate. It didn’t make sense, if he thought about it hard enough...in a way that was human. He’d drawn Masamune expecting his training to take over, for ingrained dogma to stay his hand before he did something irreversibel.

It didn’t.

The slaughter was satisfying, up to a point. Watching limbs and hemoglobin fly this way and that, Sephiroth had come to the realization that there could never be enough deaths to make up for the loss of Genesis. He would have to wipe out the entire planet and there would still be a gaping hole in his chest. So he’d fled. Not from Shinra, or from the possibility of death by capital punishment. No...he’d fled from the truth that he might never recover from this; that some part of him was irretrievably, irrefutably broken and he was never going to come to terms with it. Up, through walls of solid steel and concrete to the unforgiving, chrome-colored sky above in an explosion of despair and feathers. And it seemed bitterly ironic that he should get to fly; that he should get to plunge into the cloudline like some great, murderous beast while the man who had first presented them with the possibility of individual aviation lay lifeless on a medical gurney hundreds of feet below him. Because Genesis would have _loved_ this; loved the sense of limitless freedom that came with it.

Sephiroth did not feel free.

With each passing second, with each mile he put between himself and the company that had enslaved him, he felt more and more confined. Suffocated by his grief...buried by loss. Briefly, he’d entertained the thought of running himself through with his own sword. He honestly wasn’t sure if it would work. _Decapitation_ would work, definitely, but the idea was incredibly dramatic and even in his grief he didn’t like the idea of being remembered as the SOLDIER who had cut off his own head after going on a killing spree. Maybe it would have helped if he’d been able to cry about it. There were hundreds of pamphlets in the psychiatric department that emphasized the healthiness of crying. But-of course-during a time where it might have been helpful, Sephiroth wasn’t able to shed any tears. He avoided the physical representations of sadness; because in the past he’d been tortured for it. Now, he was unable to remember how he could go about bringing it forth in the first place. So he flew….through the skies in a blind tumult of hopelessness that seemed trapped inside him...forced to fester.

**_’Come to me’_ **

Biting his lip until blood flooded into his mouth, the silver-haired SOLDIER landed awkwardly on the outskirts of Nibelheim. In the swiftly waning summer season, the town was oddly quaint; though it was a far cry from what anyone would call beautiful. He struggled to observe, to focus on tidy, white-washed buildings with brown roofing and lattices; on the square, slate-paved streets and the glittering paned windows through which the morning light was slowly creeping. The water tower was dismissable, barely functional and likely frozen for the majority of the winter. This wouldn’t matter-of course-with the abundance of snow that was rumored to fall in the area. It would come soon...the frost...the frigid chill that seemed to eternally encompass the Northern Continent. The mountains there weren’t the same as the mountains near Bone Village; though they were borne from the same fault and followed the same geographical parameters. Unlike the flat...moor-like cliffs near the sea, these mountains were craggy, looming and beastial. Like towering giants, they made dwarfs of all things under them; glittering peaks capped with snow year-round...unchanging and archaic.

The Sleeping Forest wasn’t far, maybe a few days’ journey by foot, less by air. Briefly, Sephiroth entertained the idea of hiding there...where everything that ever mattered to him had begun. He'd survive, of that he was sure; Genesis hadn't been able to eat the local wildlife but he'd suffered no ill effects. Shinra could-would-pursue him, but what with radio silence and the disorienting, hallucinatory atmosphere...even the most seasoned SOLDIERs would fall prey eventually. It would be like a game of cat and mouse; skirting luminescence, crouching in shadows to pick them off one by one from morning to twilight hours. But...no. He couldn't do that to his men...men who had no concept of his true identity or why their Commander was dead. The deaths of the Scientists didn't bother him, because they were cognizant of Shinra's ultimate regime...had seen what Hojo did to the subjects in his laboratory and done nothing. But not his men.

_**'COME TO ME’** _

He stumbled, almost fell, with the strength of the summons. _She_ was strong here... incredibly strong, though he still didn't know who or what she was. He had an idea, from visiting the manor. The idea that he'd been injected with alien cells, the cells of what Hojo had thought was a Cetra but most certainly wasn't was... sickening. Jenova. It was likely her. Angeal had been strangely close-mouthed after visiting Nibelheim himself, but Sephiroth had attributed it to the fact that he hadn't found anything helpful. Now, he wasn't so sure. Mechanically, the General unfurled his wing; giving it a shake before wheeling up into the sky and 'following’ the summons. The town was a vague speck beneath him, devoid now of his focus. Instead, his instincts lead him to the reactor perhaps two miles outside of it.

Sephiroth knew from-research and education-that the specific geographical location was known as Mt. Nibel. The spikes surrounding the reactor didn't seem so much like outcroppings of mountainous rock as they did dragon’s teeth. Ridged and ragged; thrusting upwards towards the sky like mutated sedimentary artichokes. The facility in question was nestled against such a formation, strangely futuristic in such a rugged, timeless landscape. The indicator over the steel blast doors was red; but that wouldn't be a problem. Greenish light emanated from within; the cumulative force of the Lifestream weighty yet somehow ebullient. This particular reactor had never been high on the Company’s priority list, mostly-he’d assumed-due to location. It had no guards and the mansion wasn’t very far...the tumultuous climate made it virtually inaccessible save for a few.

The screeching cacophony of the blast doors was muted to his senses. It was overpowered by a sense of anticipation...of a long-distant dream that had finally, _finally_ reached its zenith. Strangely, the emotion didn’t seem to come from him...but from a force surrounding him. Breathless-almost _disbelieving_ -yet somehow predatory in its observance. Thickly interlaced with this was a powerful impression of impatience, almost disdainful in its urgency. Vaguely, Sephiroth was aware that everything about this was terribly wrong. What little remained of his logical deduction _screamed_ for him to run, to turn tail and never look back. But...it was a very, very small remnant.

Inside, it was pitch black save for the glow from several generators and a strange sort of luminescence coming from various pods. He forced himself to look at them, to acknowledge the unconscious, deformed and floating makonoids within. The concept of their creation was familiar to him; from his brief, frantic search of Shinra Manor as he looked for any hint of a solution for Genesis’ degradation. He knew many of them had come from before the three them, and the idea that the creatures before him used to be human only fueled the tenuous, tumultuous sense of hysteria bubbling in his veins. _He_ used to be human, before Hojo injected him with foreign cells in utero. He could have had a chance at a normal life if only Lucrecia had had the courage to say no, to acknowledge that an infant was not the proper test subject for experimentation of genetic nature.

**_’Come to me’_ **

Sephiroth staggered yet again, put a hand to his head before letting it slide forward to cover his eyes. The summons was softer, in his mind, but the compelling nature behind it was _stronger_. It didn’t make any sense, when he forced himself to pause and think about it, but so little of his cognizance was left to him it hardly mattered. Fumbling his way up a steep series of grated metal stairs; he stopped before a large steel door. It was semi-ovular; large and foreboding...yet again he was accosted with the urge to run and never look back...to put all of this...whatever it was...behind him. But the siren’s song thrumming through his veins wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t relent; and like a man possessed he drew Masamune and slammed the hilt against the forbidding metal. It crumpled like tinfoil, and he strode through.

His first thought was that he’d encountered some class of creature that he’d never seen before. The massive, metallic abomination before him seemed to snake into the heavens; glittering with plated steel and a maze of tangled tubing. Wings of smelted iron swept high above him; like that of some mysterious...winged being brought down to the filth and rot of the planet...cast from the skies like a bird struck with a stone at full flight. He was accosted with a feeling of _grief_ , and _yearning_ , and...finally _rage_. Because how _dare_ they put her here?! How dare they hide her from him for so many years...keeping them apart when they were so obviously meant to be together. As he stretched his hands forward, some small, desperate part of him hiccuped for him to relent; staggering, drunken and reeling against the darkness that had risen up to flood his psyche.

He ignored it.

Fluid and glass spilled over his fingers; metal screeched and groaned before it was torn away to reveal the violet, magnificent gaze beneath. And as he sank to his knees, flooded with whatever substance had kept her floating...kept her waiting for him to find her for so long...there was only one word that passed his lips...one he had never spoken before…

_”Mother…”_

* * *

 

Angeal didn’t know what to do.

Watching as Genesis paced the landing pad outside of HQ like some impatient, vibrating beast...he felt helpless. He was a simple man, with not-so-simple beginnings, but it didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t particularly creative. Understanding where his friend was coming from was difficult...because he’d never been in love. He’d had a few ‘flings’, here and there; pretty, sweet girls with lots of substance but no patience for his career. Each time things ended he felt less and less inclined to seek out companionship. SOLDIER’s ‘no attachments’ mantra didn’t help his mindset, and he was somewhat convinced he was going to die a spinster with a massive sword. It had bothered him, the concept of loneliness...especially when he was younger. Now, at thirty, he wasn’t so concerned with it. He had other obligations and duties that he needed to fulfill, that was all he needed.

Or so he’d thought.

The knowledge of his origins had been shattering. He _loved_ his mother, loved her with every bone in his body and every facet of his soul. The idea that she could consent to something so terrible was unbearable, it had broken him. In some ways, he could understand why the redheaded man currently wearing a path into the concrete in front of him had hidden it from him for so long. It was a terrible burden to bear. He’d come to understand that...slowly...reluctantly...grudgingly. Mostly because it was something he didn’t want to accept, but also because if he _did_ accept it, he couldn’t be angry anymore. Angeal wasn’t the type to hold grudges, it wasn’t in his nature. But the gravity of the situation...the truth of everything...it was hard to let go. Harder than that was the singular fact that Shinra was not the positive entity he’d once thought it was. He’d grown up dreaming of being a SOLDIER. Every waking, quiet moment was filled with thoughts of honor and renown. Acknowledging that his aspirations amounted to lauding that which was corrupt and evil was crushing. He wasn’t that kind of man.

Ultimately, he was glad that he’d let his petty resentments go when he did. Otherwise, he would have been privy to watching Genesis’ degradation from a distance. He knew-instinctively-that it would have destroyed him. And...ultimately, he would never have found a cure for what would surely have been a death sentence. There were rumors of materia tied to the earth. He and his childhood friend had spoken of it at length, especially when they were new to the program. Training, conditioning and general dogma had drained them of what they saw as ‘childish’ ideals. Things wrought from legends and fairytales that could never possibly be. It was easy to fall into concentrated doctrine, to act out of duty without really thinking of the consequences. In retrospect, Angeal was ashamed of his naivety, of his willingness to fold to something that seemed so simple it couldn’t possibly be that way.

He’d remembered, in a stroke of pure, hysterical delirium, the legends of materia hidden in the Banora Underground. Sephiroth had brought back papers from Shinra Manor that mentioned the presence of a laboratory in the mines where he and Genesis used to play as children. He’d put two and two together, chalked it up to quite a bit of supposition and superstition...and then he’d went anyway. Zack had come along, and he was glad that he did, otherwise he’d probably be dead. The monsters they encountered there were like nothing he’d ever seen before...not all in one place in any case. They’d fought against a Grangalan, an Evilgoyle, and a Marlboro...and Angeal was sincerely convinced that luck was on their side. All three creatures were near-dormant, starved of air and light and partially blind. They’d escaped by the skin of their teeth and Zack was still in the medbay, unconscious, while scientists worked over him day and night.

It was worth it.

Finding the Goddess Materia was like finding a needle in a haystack, but they’d done it. Even while his trainee staggered from blood loss; the determination on his face would likely have been enough to inspire the entirety of the SOLDIER population as they stumbled out of the mines with their prize tucked into Angeal’s vambraces. He would never, ever make fun of Loveless again, that much was certain. Upon returning to HQ he was greeted with a dying Genesis and a General who was clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown. Even as they rushed to the Science Division to do what they could, it was clear that Sephiroth was falling apart in a way that was irreversible. When Genesis’ heart monitor had stopped, it was like the world hung suspended in a single, terrible moment. Angeal had dropped to his knees as-seemingly-his heart exploded and bled all over the floor. Because he’d known the redheaded, loudmouthed, hopelessly romantic individual lying lifeless on a gurney before him for the entirety of his life. Genesis was his _friend_...his only friend, and losing him was like losing half of himself...half of what had made him into the man he was.

He’d tried to stop Sephiroth.

He really had. But in retrospect, he’d probably have done better by being quiet. His horrified yells seemed to only spur the man on; as he ripped through body after body, leaving a tide of scarlet in his wake. And something about his eyes was...wrong. The green was still there, but a tide of vicious, virulent violet was bleeding into them; encompassing the irises until he no longer recognized the person before him. Hollander’s head went flying and he’d simply ducked and and sank into a chair...unable to lift his sword against a man who had previously only shown him kindness and sincerity. When he forced himself to think about it, he had to acknowledge that some part of him savagely hearkened to Sephiroth’s madness; to the corruption that had finally driven loose that final foothold he had on his sanity. That foothold was lying dead, as far as he was concerned...and nothing could replace him. When he’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, the silver-haired SOLDIER had sprouted an enormous, hulking wing and slammed through several layers of concrete to escape into the sky above. The rain that followed in his wake offered no relief.

And then, Genesis took a breath.

It was strange-Angeal reflected-looking at the man in front of him, you’d never know he’d been clinically dead several days before. All the color that had slowly drained out of him had flooded back into his cheeks, his skin had regenerated, and the red in his hair was as obnoxious and glorious as it had been before. Hojo had cleared him for duty less than twenty four hours later, and it was like it had never happened. A part of him didn’t understand it, refused to process it. In the recesses of his mind, Genesis was dead...had been dead. The proof of this being untrue was right in front of him, but he struggled to accept it. Because while his childhood friend was clearly alive, the look in his eyes said he sincerely wished he wasn’t.

Shinra had dispatched a kill-order for Sephiroth.

Realistically, it wasn’t exactly _unrealistic_. Because Sephiroth had wiped out a quarter of the Science Division and then proceeded to decimate a third of the Upper Plate’s population. It was-to him at least-very obvious that the second had been a suicide attempt. Which was terrible and horrible and made him wish he’d tried harder to stop him, but there really wasn’t anything he could do short of hanging on to that great, huge wing and then plunging hundreds of feet to his certain death. Now, however, Shinra’s Finest was occupying his time by razing cities to the ground in what seemed to be an act of mindless genocide. North Corel was...well..there wasn’t a North Corel anymore. And Fort Condor had suffered staggering losses. The Grasslands were burning and the radio feed going into the entirety of the Junon area was all static. The reports they had received initially were confused and panicked; suffused with the screams of dying men and the retort of automatic weapons. For days, he’d sat with Genesis as he stared at the radio with a kind of empty hopelessness in his eyes...as if expecting the man he loved to suddenly wake up and come home.

But coming home for Sephiroth meant certain death.

And so, late last night, when the fires burning on the horizon were too close for comfort, Lazard had come to them with the kill order. Angeal had stood in taciturn silence after he left, watching as his childhood friend broke down like he was shattering from the inside out. He couldn’t count how many objects in Genesis’ apartment were broken, only that the redhead refused to return to it due to the memories embedded in the walls. The blue-eyed SOLDIER had screamed, cried, and finally sunk onto the floor clutching a red materia in shaking fingers whose significance he couldn’t possibly understand. For hours, he refused to move from that specific spot on the carpet...refused any sort of comfort Angeal might have offered him. Time seemed to slip away from them...as he tried to clean up the refuse littering the furniture and hard surfaces only to retreat when he was rebuked. He sat hopelessly next to the door, ever-cognizant of the fact that Genesis could draw Rapier and do something irreversible. Then, abruptly, at 0245, the redhead had sat up as if electrified and made his way up to the landing pad like a man possessed.

And that was what had brought them here, now.

Watching as his fellow FIRST checked his comm for what seemed like the thousandth time, Angeal couldn’t help but feel a little bit frustrated. Because despite everything that had happened in the last few days, they still needed to talk about this. Nothing about their current situation was healing or healthy, and while he might have suggested counseling in the past...he knew now that there was a reason Genesis had never sought it out.

“Report!”

The dark-haired SOLDIER jumped as the younger man’s voice cut across the early morning air like a knife. Confusedly, he realized that the man in front of him had pulled out his radio and was searching for news across the channels. Surely he couldn’t mean to _kill_ Sephiroth? If he wasn’t mentally compromised already, that would ruin him.

_**’Sir!’**_ the response across the wavelength was choppy and almost indistinguishable. _**’The target was headed towards Costa Del Sol, but our intel just informed us that its trajectory has been altered.’**_

Angeal watched as Genesis gritted his teeth.

“...And where is he headed now?”

_**’Sir, last we heard, he was headed to Midgar, flying at about a hundred and seventy five knots. None of our birds are that fast. He’ll be there within the hour.’**_ There was a pause. _**’You should know sir, reports have it that everything about it went screwy. He was dead set on CDS, and then...he sort of fell out of the air.’**_

The redheaded Commander’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers tightened on the radio.

“Elaborate” he said flatly.

_**’Well, it seemed like he sort of stayed in position for a moment...struggling with himself y’know. Then he shot straight up again and took off towards HQ.’** _

Genesis went ghostly white, and the radio fell from his fingers.

“What day is it?” he asked numbly. When Angeal failed to answer him directly, he glared at him. _”What day is it?!”_

Gathering himself, the dark-haired FIRST swallowed.

“It’s the fourteenth of September” he said quietly. “But I don’t-”

He broke off as the redhead swore, and then swore again...fumbling with his comm before ripping it out of his pocket and dialing a number he couldn’t see.It rang...and rang again...and again. On the tenth ring the device was thrown over the edge of HQ as Genesis abruptly slumped, covering his face with one hand.

“Gaia” he breathed.

“Genesis, what’s going on?!” Angeal demanded.

It was a long time before his childhood friend responded. When he did, it was in a voice so low he could barely hear it.

“He isn’t coming back to HQ to kill anyone” he said hoarsely. “When he left, he didn’t take his suppressants, and he probably wouldn’t have been in the right mind to take them anyway...

Sephiroth is going into heat...a full heat...and he’s coming back for me.”

* * *

 

Blood, fire, and darkness.

The only things that ran through his mind were those three words. He was consumed by it, brought down by it...encompassed by a hunger that seemed overreaching and far more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. The disdain he felt for the Planet was suffocating. He _hated_ her, and she hated him. Hated what he was doing to every facet of her pathetic...tepid soil...hated the fire that he spread across the surface to destroy what stood in his path. He didn’t care. Because what had Gaia ever brought to his kind, to _their_ kind? They who were older and far more ancient than the pathetic, snivelling goddess who had laid claim to this waste of a planet. Who was she to defy them? She was nothing. She and the spawn she’d created would shrivel and waste away under his touch...under the weight of justice and revenge. The ill-begotten, muddy beings that had seen fit to imprison him for so long...beneath walls of steel and chrome; they would suffer for it. Suffer as he had suffered and more.

The screams of the dying were musical.

Like the wave of a tumultuous melody borne on a black wave of agony; they crashed into his psyche and soothed him. Because now they knew terror as he had known it, now they knew pain as he had always known pain. And as he wheeled under a black sky he acknowledged the finality of the ultimatum...of the truth that he could only ever choose slaughter over peace. Because how could there be peace when humans still walked the earth? With their twisted, corrupt souls and scheming hearts; bound to their habits and frivolities.

And over it all...over the fire and death and glory was _her_.

His mother.

Her song was like an orchestra in his ears...like the call of a siren from endless dark depths. She spurred him on, rejoicing in every kill, every city laid to waste. Wrapping warm, maternal hands around his heart, she whispered praise into his ears...lauded him in a way he'd never been privy to before. And when Masamune swung to take yet another, worthless life she laughed and it was like the laughter of angels. Her visage seemed to swim before him, cold and brilliant like the stars; like the dappled whisper of sunlight over the surface of a glassy pool. She was everything he was... everything he ever would be. And he rejoiced- _revelled_ -in her attentions. Took her rage and multiplied it into a carnal joy that was left dripping wet and rubicund over his physicality. They danced together, like moons circling a massive planet whose only use was purpose...a glorious purpose.

_'My son...how **long** I have waited for you._

And then everything came crashing down.

There was a flicker, like the degradation of a feedback loop gone bad. His head was suddenly filled with silence... horrible and empty. Heat exploded across his body like an iron vice, constricting his lungs and beating a mindless, primal pulse into his head. Suddenly, abruptly, he could sense him...like a bright, roaring beacon that drowned everything else around it. His presence called to him and it was so strong...stronger than she was.

__**'Fight it!’**_ _ He tried. With every facet of his being he tried. Kicking out with every ounce of his metaphysical self only made it worse; cut off his ability to fly and sent him hurtling into the ground. __**'If you can't fight it we'll never be together!!’**__

Sephiroth lay there, dazed. Covered with blood and aching and so _hungry_. And she was screaming in the recesses of his mind but it was like listening to a radio feed that was slowly going bad. He got up, stumbled... moisture suffused his thighs and some part of him screamed that this was _humiliating_ but he couldn't concentrate... didn't care.

He spread his wing.

And under the cacophony of a dozen pursuing helicopters Sephiroth flew towards that light... because he knew what was waiting at the end of it...knew that it could relieve him of this pain. As he traversed the space between hell and salvation, Jenova faded away...became only a distant... terrible memory in the dregs of his mind. Genesis was alive, he _needed_ Genesis.

Nothing else mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been gone so long. I will get to your reviews but it's 12am and I'm about to fall over. 
> 
> I hope this chapter lives up to the wait. It's not exactly up to my expectations but nothing I write ever is 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **READ PLEASE** : I'm going to address the major issue straight off. We are at a drop off.point. I do this so that readers who aren't into certain fanfiction elements can still appreciate the story. Once you get to the *second* paragraph break, the one with the Lovelss quote below.it. that is where your story ends if you don't like weirder elements. To see what element, and to judge if it's weird. See the end chapter notes. 
> 
>   **I've warned you.**
> 
>   **Thanks**

Genesis went to Hojo.

Standing in the middle of Sephiroth’s living room; staring at the dark cityscape beyond; he acknowledged it hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had. The doors were closed; locked… and the windows were open; unfettered as the breeze coming in from outside stirred the slats from the overhanging blinds into a frenzy. Outside the General’s apartment, the occasional beep from a radio was indicative of his guard; a group of Turks he’d never met before and honestly didn’t care to. Because this was _wrong_. This was wrong on a level that he’d never thought Shinra would sink to. Twisting his gloved fingers together, Genesis exhaled through his teeth, trying to quell the rage that was threatening to rise up and consume him. He was helpless to do this, because the alternative was worse...the alternative would negate his survival, his purpose. Their purpose. ...And they knew it. _They knew it._

To be fair to himself, if anything about this could be call fair, he’d been desperate. Because the orders came in to shoot Sephiroth out of the sky and he couldn’t handle that. Couldn’t handle the idea of watching him fall through clouds and empty space to the unforgiving concrete below. Angeal had begged him to reconsider when he realized what he was doing; had followed him down to the sublevels like a miserable, beaten dog and told him that he was going about it wrong. They both knew that there was no other alternative, that the opposite of what he was doing would culminate in an unnecessary death. And Genesis had seen enough unnecessary deaths. If he had to lower himself to avoid slaughter, he would do it.

But he hadn’t anticipated this.

He knew that Hojo wasn’t kind, nor was he forgiving...just as much as he knew that the sky was blue and the grass was green. But he did know that the deranged, evil scientist valued the General over all his other projects; and that his loss would be a blow he was unlikely to salvage anything from. Hojo gained nothing from Sephiroth’s death, so he’d taken the cards he was given and played them as best he could. The hand he was dealt in return was horrific. At first, the Commander assumed that his plea for mercy was a lost cause. Hojo taunted him, asked him what he was willing to give, and when he’d said _’anything’_ he’d laughed...like all of this was some sort of amusing and lighthearted performance wrought before him.

Genesis had turned to leave, disgusted, hopeless, and enraged...and then he was ordered to wait just outside the labs. He’d watched as Hojo picked up the phone, speaking in hushed whispers to whoever was on the other end, his smile growing wider an wider as he did so. When the bespectacled scientist put the device back into the receiver he’d merely grinned at him before disappearing into an unseen, invisible part of the lab behind a pair of steel blast doors.

The redhead had stood there, sure that he’d failed in what was already pretty much guaranteed to be a fruitless attempt. Angeal caught up with him then, tried to comfort him to no avail. They’d stood in the dimly lit hallway like two individuals unmoored, caught in the tempest that was dread and discouragement. Because while neither of them condoned Sephiroth’s actions, they understood them...recognized that the deep well of rage that had festered in the younger man’s heart was borne from years of isolation and torment. If there was any hope of redeeming him, it was gone now. Genesis had slid down the padded walls into a sitting position with his head between his knees, trying to dispel the riotous panic that was thundering through his veins. His fellow FIRST had been talking; slowly, soothingly...like he was trying to tame a skittish horse that could bolt at any moment, but his words fell on deaf ears.

And then Angeal brought up Jenova.

Slowly, haltingly, his childhood friend had explained what he and the General had pieced together on their covert ventures outside of HQ. Learning that both of his comrades had been searching tirelessly for a cure didn’t soothe him in the least. He’d known it, to some degree...but it was hard to accept. A part of him was still angry at Sephiroth for failing to acknowledge his right to die, but he wouldn’t be there if he had. Angeal detailed the discovery of what Shinra had thought was an Ancient, but was truly an abomination borne out of the darkness of space.

Set upon Gaia, she had razed the inhabitants at the time-the Ancients-into nonexistence. Ignorant to her true identity, the scientific denizens of the company to which they were employed had injected them with alien cells. He and Angeal had been deemed failures, though as far as the redhead was aware, the dark-haired FIRST had suffered no ill-effects. By his reckoning, some part of his physiology had rejected cellular cohesion from the start, and he was starting to think it had something to do with him being half Cetra. It made sense really, that the component of his physiology that was so tied to the Planet would abhor being combined with something that was determined to destroy it. Sephiroth...however, was a difference story.

Lucrecia and Hojo’s son had flourished under the administration of the cells...but there was one caveat. Where Jenova had been previously dormant, neurological scans indicated a massive focus in what would be considered the cingulate gyrus of the human mind. It happened only occasionally...but when it did...there was an immediate response in Sephiroth’s brain as well. This indicated a vast propensity for psychological control, for manipulation...there were whispers of the possibility of a ‘hive mind.’

With the young General being the youth of the duo, it was assumed that Jenova would automatically assume the position of ‘Queen’. Jenova was moved immediately, sequestered away in a metal cage that was a mockery of her true self; housed in iron and lead to prevent the power of her psychic abilities from reaching too far. Sephiroth in turn was moved to Midgar when he became of age and the truth of his origin was concealed. This part Angeal had not shared with their green-eyed comrade, unsure of the consequences that would occur if he did.

Stunned, Genesis had stared at the tiled flooring beneath his feet in a kind of dazed incredulity as he tried to process the information given to him. Because-by all accounts-Sephiroth was being _controlled_ , and Shinra knew it. Despite the fact that the silver-haired FIRST had no say over his actions they had put out a kill order. It was enough to make him sick.

Then came the sound of booted footfalls, of the advance of a significant force down the hallways to where they resided. He’d been surprised-at first-to see Tseng among the throng of SOLDIERS approaching them. The Turks were-after all-not particularly keen on getting wrapped up in high-ranking affairs. The gaze he leveled at Genesis was apologetic and grim...and for a moment he’d thought he was getting arrested.

Then Lazard appeared.

Stepping through the the platoon of SECONDS inundating the confined space, the head of SOLDIER had ordered Genesis to Sephiroth’s rooms. At first, he’d been confused, because there was no way that they were simply letting the General return home like nothing had happened. Then Angeal had made a strangled noise, his eyes wide with incredulous comprehension...and he’d understood. Shinra was using him to corral Sephiroth; to bring him out of his heat and then whisk him away so that he could go to trial. Once they were in the same room together the pheromones his partner emitted would overtake both of them...there would be no stopping it. It wouldn’t be consensual, it wouldn’t be tangible or romantic or anything that he’d ever wanted it to be. He would take Sephiroth and Sephiroth would _let_ him...because he wouldn’t be able to say no, because he wouldn’t be cognizant or lucid.

He’d resisted, violently.

To his credit, Angeal jumped to his defense immediately, but all subsequent events indicated that they’d been expecting it. The sedative they hit the dark-haired FIRST with dropped him like rock in the middle of the ocean. He fell to the floor and didn’t move. It took twenty fully decorated SECONDS to restrain Genesis, and he wounded ten in the process; three of them would be coming out of the medbay in body bags. He didn’t care.

It was only when they’d dragged him halfway back to Residential that he realized that he didn’t have any other options. If he succeeded in resisting they would still kill Sephiroth, and they’d probably kill him too. He was-quite literally-backed into a corner. After that, he went willingly, if not quietly. He cursed them every step of the way, and when Tseng tried to form some sort of fuck-all apology he’d nearly taken his eyes out before he was pulled back and restrained yet again. The door to the General’s quarters didn’t seem like the safe haven it once was; it felt like a nightmare come to life...a living, breathing abomination of what a corrupt industry would do in order to reign unchecked. They’d shoved him inwards; roughly, heedlessly, almost as if afraid to let him remain among him due to unforeseen consequences. Then the door had shut, and the sound of the electronic lock sliding into place was like the descent of a guillotine.

...And here he was.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Genesis tried to center his thoughts. It was hard… _so hard_ , because no matter how he looked at it, this was rape. If he could take any comfort from his current situation, it was that it wasn't his doing...it was doing of the SOLDIERs outside his door, of the fat, hideous man sleeping peacefully in his lavish apartment nearby...of the mad scientist sequestered in the labs. Both he and Sephiroth were being led like lambs to the slaughter, like offerings being proffered to a zealous kingdom that could never glut itself to satisfaction.

Swallowing, the redhead attempted to concentrate on something else...anything else...He’d prepared, as much as he could. The bed was turned down and the apartment was clean...as clean as you could make an already spotless apartment. Perhaps fifteen minutes ago he’d asked for two cases of bottled water; to his surprise, he’d gotten them, along with a cardboard box filled with rations. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. To pass time, he’d put them in the kitchen. Keeping the lights off seemed like a good idea, he wasn’t cognizant of Sephiroth’s mood in a full heat, and he didn’t want to aggravate him...or scare him.

The sound of a massive amount of choppers was getting considerably louder.

More prominent than that, however, was the steady… ** _*thump*, *thump*, *thump*_** of a singular wing...echoing across his enhanced hearing...heralding the approach of his- _their_ -doom. Thoughtlessly, Genesis sank to his knees, facing the windows with his hands clenched against his thighs. He wanted to be anywhere but here, but he _couldn’t_ be anywhere but here. It was ironic, really, for so long they’d avoided the truth that was their attraction, afraid of the consequences it might bring...and now they were being forced into it. If he’d had a singular humorous bone left in his body, he’d have laughed. As the large, looming shape growing behind the blinds grew steadily bigger, he could only gaze hopelessly...resignedly forwards.

The windows exploded inwards.

Glass flew across his visage, the edge of a particularly sharp piece biting into his cheek before sailing past his line of vision. Slivers of molten sand sailed into the living room, scattering across the furniture like glittering facets of snow. Genesis exhaled shakily as the blinds shuddered before crumbling with an ominous, tumultuous crackling noise. They fell to the floor like so many bones...lifeless as they had always been, simply in a different place. There was the crunch of booted feet against broken shards, a whisper of leather over a hard surface as a shadow flitted over his line of sight.

And then it was done...and _he_ was there. Covered in blood, soot, and ash...Sephiroth was no less ethereal than he’d been the last time he’d seen him. That silver hair was magnificent in its glory, not a strand out of place as he crouched next to the empty windowsill, shaking violently. Green eyes burned from their sockets, flashed across the room like frantic pinpoints of luminous emerald before settling upon him. The giant, black wing framing muscular shoulders shuddered before disappearing in a sea of black feathers...gone as if it had never been. The younger man seemed to try to gather himself; made a choked, pleading noise that was so painfully distant from the murderous picture he presented that Genesis caved...made a soft, soothing sound in the back of his throat as he pitched forward to edge his way toward him.

Sephiroth uncoiled then; sinuous and platinum and noir and _forward_. Still shivering, still barely cognizant but _there_. Dimly, the Commander was aware that the noises outside of the apartment had gone silent...that there was an air of bated breath surrounding them that was somehow out of place. Then, like the connection of two magnetic fields; they collided. Leather slid against leather as smooth but unsteady fingers cupped his face and Genesis arched backwards as he was lifted up, as the silver-haired FIRST leaned into him, supple and yielding and beautiful.

A hot mouth was pressed against his cheek and a low, long groaning sound that seemed to be half-pain and half agonized relief registered in his ears. Lost, the older man dug his fingers into familiar strands of endless moonlight...breathing deeply as a piece of his heart that had been separated for what seemed like eons shivered back into place. Leather-clad hands were roaming the expanse of his back, clutching at the fabric of his coat before digging in like they were afraid he would disappear if they let go.

And then the smell hit him.

Sweet, _so sweet_ , ambrosial in its intensity; the pervasiveness of it began in his olfactory senses and then spread to the rest of his nervous system. Genesis was overcome with it, drowned in it, and the sense of urgency that had previously seemed slow and almost dormant suddenly flared to life like a spark thrown onto dry kindling. Everything about Sephiroth was hot, and soft, and _Goddess_...he was thrusting his fingers between the criss-cross of leather at his chest; lunging forward to mouth hungrily at the exposed alabaster skin at the slope of a powerful neck. The younger man acquiesced uncannily, threw his head back to give him greater access as his fingers scrabbled at Genesis’ sweater, trying to pull it over his head before giving up and ripping it asunder.

Cool air barely registered in his mind as those long, clever digits immediately returned to explore the length of his body; hungry and seeking as the green-eyed SOLDIER made another desperate, ravenous noise and pulled back to fumble with his uniform; keeping his gaze trained on Genesis the whole time. Somewhat separated from the excess of pheremones, the redhead was able to register that they were missing something, something vital. Gritting his teeth, he crawled backwards...made it halfway to the door before a long, slender hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled him back.

“C-condom!” he managed to yell. “We need fucking condoms!”

There was silence...and Sephiroth was crawling over him; naked in all his virile, irresistible glory and he couldn’t _think_ anymore. Then, coldly...tonelessly, a reply came filtering through.

“...You won’t be needing them.”

Some small, still cognizant part of his brain registered that it was _Hojo’s_ voice that had answered him. And everything about it was wrong...something was _wrong_...but it was too late. He was flipped over, his cargo pants were ripped down, off and he was staring into the depths of those blazing, mako infused eyes as his head was yanked back by the hair. Sephiroth’s mouth descended upon him and it was hopeless. Genesis groaned, lifted his hands to cup smooth cheeks as he plunged his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of a mouth. The younger man moaned, ground downwards as their erections were brought flush against each other. Clothless, the hold that the General had over him was immovable. His body was on _fire_...throbbing, aching, writhing outwards against an endless wheel of unstoppable lust. His hands wandered over the small of Sephiroth’s back...lingered over the powerful dip of his spine before grasping the firm rise of his ass, shuddering as the man above him undulated into the movement.

Distractedly, Genesis accepted the fact that they were not going to make it to the bed.

Not now anyway, not with the way the man currently pinning him into the carpet was moving; a distracted, seemingly almost-painful hurricane of touch and demand for touch. Sephiroth slid down his torso, his lips dogging the ways his fingers had taken; mapping his skin in wet, aching trails that glittered faintly in the moonlight filtering into the apartment before evaporating. Eupnea whispered over his chest as the General found his nipples; licked his way around the aureoles before enveloping one in warm, velvet rapture. He lingered...kneaded the somewhat soft flesh below Genesis’ rib cage before replacing his hands with his mouth and sucking until the red flower of a bruise bloomed just beneath his skin only to fade away as quickly as it had come.

The air was thick with the soft, almost indiscernible melody of their exchange; wrought on the edge of ragged breaths and the slide of epidermis against epidermis. The rasp of the redhead's palm against the curve of a heaving, shuddering side seemed overloud...as was the subsequent slide of his fingers into the silky fall of silver spilling over him. Levering himself up on one elbow, Genesis coaxed his partner into another deep kiss, shivering when the younger man leaned into it; pressed the full weight of his body against his and practically swallowed his tongue. Sephiroth's movements had become more suggestive; one leg was thrown over the Commander's thigh and he could feel the hot slide of arousal across his rectus femoris. At the same time, the man in question pulled away somewhat only to bury his face in Genesis’ hair; inhaling raggedly as a trembling, overly-hot hand cupped his cheek.

_”Gen…”_

Strangled, tortured and filled to the brim with a grief he could not fathom… His name was spoken with a reverence that shook him to his very soul. The General moved again and they were cheek to cheek, and the redhead tried to tell himself-through the inferno of raging desire-that the wetness he felt there was due to perspiration, but he couldn't. Even as the fingers brushing his jaw dug in...distracted as the silver-haired SOLDIER was with the inevitable tide of his physiology, he spoke again.

“I…” a low groan and Sephiroth was grinding against his thigh, his breathing ragged before he appeared to steel himself. “Sorry…” he rasped. “M’ _sorry_...I can't… _Gen_.”

“It’s okay” Genesis gasped, stiffening as the wave of pheromones grew almost unbearable in its intensity.

And really, everything was _not okay_ but his cognizance was completely and utterly fucked. Overcome with the primal purpose thundering through his veins, the redhead bucked upwards sharply and the green-eyed man rolled off him with surprising ease to sprawl on his back. Mindlessly, the older man crawled over him...registering only dimly when those pale legs opened for him automatically. Here the aroma of arousal was overwhelming. Moaning, the blue-eyed SOLDIER dove forward to bury his mouth in the soft heat of Sephiroth's sex; fingers curling around shivering thighs as he licked into him hungrily. He closed his eyes as nectar flooded his mouth; as the silver-haired man made a shocked, strangled sound before frantically grasping his hair and tugging him upwards.

When they kissed again Genesis’ cock was nudging the ingress of a flushed, fluttering channel. Gazing into green irises, the redhead _tried_ to center himself. The effort of it was evident in the way his spine bowed and his arms trembled. And still he was urged onwards; long fingers pressed at the small of his back and alabaster hips pushed up and forwards.

“Seph” he breathed, jerking mindlessly at the touch. A whine was his only response as the younger man tried to expedite his reticence. “Seph…!”

_“Please.”_

With that final entreaty he was lost. Because Sephiroth didn't-shouldn’t, as far as he was concerned-beg. With an exclamation that was almost a stertorous wail but felt more like a sob, the redhead reared back and at the same time thrust deep...a sweeping sensuous roll consumed by gratuitous course. There was no resistance, the younger man was absolutely soaked; what with the relentless onslaught of instinctual drive and the attention of Genesis’ tongue, Sephiroth was more than ready. At some point, the blue-eyed FIRST was aware of a minimal intransigence...of tearing and the faint aroma of copper but he was wayward….forfeit to the significance of it as warm arms wrapped around his shoulders and drew him downwards, until his hair was brushing cant of a shivering throat.

At the first thrust, the silver-haired SOLDIER gave voice to a gutteral sound of deep satisfaction. The General’s body seemed to auscultate to it; fingers in his right hand curling tightly before spreading wide-palm up-against the rough fabric of the carpet next to his head; forefinger sliding over thumb-trembling-as if the younger man could feel the sensation of his movement to the very tips of his extremities. The redhead felt rather than saw the muscles in his belly clench before relaxing as his partner’s thighs came up to embrace his sides; toes curling against the Commander’s skin as he undulated into the impetus of his movement. Gradually, the sound coming from Sephiroth’s lips de-escalated into more of a purr; a ductile emission of breath from the back of the throat helplessly caught and forced to roll over the back of the tongue in an endless circuit. Emerald eyes that had once been fraught with tension relaxed...grew heavy, glossy, and languorous.

For all his desire to observe, Genesis was almost mindless against the hot, supple heat enveloping his arousal; caressing every facet of his need with silky, shuddering finesse. If he were any other man he’d have exploded already, helpless against the warm, ethereal sensation of _yes_ that surrounded him. Sephiroth had-inarguably-the most heavenly cunt he had ever encountered and the way he was moving was doing him absolutely no favors in terms of his pride. It took every facet of his will to stop when he bottomed out somewhere...somewhere _rapturous_...mouthing against the hollow where neck met sternum. The older man breathed out through his nose, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to reign himself in to let his partner stretch to accommodate him; his nails digging into flushed skin before he realized what he was doing.

In retrospect, he probably continued too soon.

Though, really, Sephiroth didn’t seem to mind; as Genesis flexed his hips to initiate the next drive forward the younger man followed him, almost as if expecting him to pull back and disappear. Really, he wasn't going fucking anywhere. The redhead made a low, mindless noise of ecstasy as he slid inwards once more, one of his hands dropping to nudge underneath them; cupping the creamy flexure of his companion's backside as attempted to gain deeper access. That irriguous, tantalizing moisture clenched and he held in the resultant whimper only by gnashing his teeth and digging his fingers in. Slow, slow, slow. Over and over again he repeated it in his mind as he began careful rhythm, rolling his forehead into the skin below him as he attempted to wrangle some small modicum of control.

Sephiroth wasn't having any of it.

Impatient, the silver-haired soldier dug the flats on his feet into the floor and pushed upwards with every movement; giving it up after a minute and simply wrapping himself over every inch of Genesis that he could. Flushed, hungry, and swollen around him, his fellow first spurred him onwards, somewhat tentatively at first, then writhing into each heavy advance. Realistically, the blue-eyed man knew he should be essentially giving the man some kind of testicular discomfort, but the anatomy in question was drawn up tight against that magnificent cock; flat against his abdominal muscles as the dance of their juxtapose grew ever-more ardent.

When Genesis found that deep, hidden locus of gratification inside him, Sephiroth stiffened; those green eyes widened once again and the look within them was apprehensive, almost fearful. Murmuring something delirious, the Commander sucked distractedly at the soft hollow beneath a flushed ear before taking the younger man's mouth-driving his tongue deep-and hitting it again. A string of babbled nonsense was his only reply as the silver-haired  
FIRST rose up on his elbows to meet him thrust for thrust; arm coming down instinctively to take himself in hand and stroke mindlessly. Mouth against mouth, breath intermingling, and the sounds coming from Sephiroth’s lips were a string of the initial vowel; long and sweet and greedy. Rising in pitch but never overly lofty until the body below Genesis seized, the hands clutching his shoulders scrabbled for purpose as the green-eyed man came, tightening rhythmically, vice-like as his gaze became unfocused...brows drawn together in an expression of bewilderment.

Moisture flooded over his length, the smell of pheromones was a heady drug, and he was _done_. The words that spilled from his lips were so filthy they would have made the stoutest of drill sergeants blush like a virgin. Genesis’ orgasm blinded him, stars should have combusted in the vacuum of space as he emptied himself in wet, throbbing ecstasy. _Bliss_ and the name falling from his lips was the only name he ever wanted to speak again; breathy as he rolled with the aftershocks; curled into the other-into _him_ -as his partner did the same until they were an entwined cocoon of trembling delirium. The world sailed out from under him, vaulted him into someplace unknown and alien and he shivered for its ethereal strangeness. Locked in warm musculature, closeness and breath... nuzzling...mouthing and sighs and _more_...more? Through the haze of it, though his hands were already grasping lithe hips to begin gain, the redhead registered that something was a little bit off.

He was still hard.

And that-that was physically impossible. Genesis wasn’t new to sex, but his refractory period wasn’t limited to two seconds. Even the horniest of teenagers couldn’t get it back up that quickly and he was nowhere near thirteen anymore. All logic dictated he should be lying in a heap on the floor trying to pick his incredibly satisfied brains off the carpet. But reality dictated otherwise. Reality dictated the Sephiroth was nowhere near finished and neither was he. Reality indicated that he was already plunging back into that well of rhapsody to chase the lingering vestiges of that determinate delirium. _Reality_ was the fact that the younger man was on the brinks of yet another orgasm and he wasn’t far behind.

The remainder of the night was a choppy blur.

Looking back on it in the days to come...snatches of it were burned into his vision; like sensual spectres twirling against the atmosphere of vague recollection. Fragments of sound, whispers of words, soft-sharp bursts of sensation that burned wherever they made contact with his psyche. But the most prominent of those flashbacks consisted of Sephiroth. Sephiroth stretched against every facet of his physicality, curled against his chest as they thoroughly ruined the couch. Sephiroth with his back against the solid oak, legs hooked around his waist as they fucked against the door to the bathroom. Sephiroth spread against dark sheets, hair fanning out over his head as Genesis bit gently at the back of his neck while he took him from behind. Pearlescent skin, emerald eyes and sacchariferous scent...edacious, exquisite fingers and an adroit tongue.

He didn’t know how long it was until they were both lucid enough to stop for water. Vaguely, he remembered that he definitely needed it; that the cool liquid passing over his lips soothed his throat and revitalized his senses. At the time it didn’t seem to matter, at the time the only thing in his head was the sense of urgency that razed his cognizance to dust. At the time, the more prominent necessity was the fact that his partner had finished his drink and was thoroughly impatient with him. That the younger man had already begun the process of pleasuring himself without him...that Genesis had thrown crumbled plastic to the floor next to the bed to abandon clarity yet again; crawling over long sprawled limbs to find that aching, pulsing incalescence to immerse himself betwixt. All firth and craving and a soft entreaty followed by a harsh demand…. _’give it to me’_. The rise and fall of breath and a silver head buried in the pillows as Sephiroth moaned something about being _full_ in a voice that was shattered.

Eventually, their bodies succumbed to exhaustion out of pure need for survival. The Commander became aware of it when they were stretched out on the comforter, trying to finagle a position that he’d-personally, and that was saying a hell of a lot-never heard of. Sephiroth went abruptly lax, his eyes rolled back, and he was so still that for a moment Genesis thought he was dead. Then-glancing at the clock-the older man realized that it 0332 and the General likely hadn’t slept in several days. Which-considering the burning metropolises and all that-made sense. The smell of pheromones dissipated with the silver-haired soldier’s egress from consciousness, and exhaustion hit him like a behemoth at full speed. The redhead only had enough sense left in him to pull the sheet smashed down at the edge of the bed over them before he was taken as well.

It didn’t last very long.

* * *

 

By his reckoning, it was maybe three hours before he was woken by the sound of a wrapper being pulled back. Groaning, the older man tried to think past the agony that was his muscles screaming in virulent protest. He was _tired_ , so tired. He didn’t think he’d been so tired when he ‘died.’ And to virtually rise from the grave to this was a hell of a homecoming but he was really too fucking old to do this on a regular basis. Sitting up, he squinted against the dim morning sunlight pouring in through the windows. It crept across the ruined coverlet in soft, yellow rays, highlighting the destruction around them. Rubbing eyes still heavy with sleep, Genesis tried not to be impressed. Because it was apparent that Sephiroth would need a new apartment; at the very least a complete and total renovation. The bed was destroyed; pillows were veritably ripped down the middle and it looked like at some point the frame had simply cracked in half. He was wedged in the dip of it, which was kind of fluffy and nice but still weird.

There were chips in the paint on the walls-which had been ugly anyway-assumably from when one of them had thrown the other against them; and the picture frame detailing a topographical map of Gaia had ripped from one corner to the other, diagonally. The glass holding it was shattered and pieces of it were littering the floor. He knew, from the vague, hazy memories he’d collected over the course of the night, that the space outside the bedroom was pretty much the same if not worse. In different circumstances, the redhead might have been proud of his physical prowess but he couldn’t take full credit for it in this particular case. Sephiroth was currently sitting in a pleather club chair that would need new upholstery. Chewing on a ration bar, the younger man was either oblivious to the fact that Genesis had fucked him over the arm of it or he simply didn’t care. Then again, there really wasn’t anything else to sit on. Shifting, the Commander winced as the bed groaned ominously. He was fairly sure if both of them had been lounging on it it would simply collapse.

Upon hearing him move, the General's head whipped around to look at him, and Genesis acknowledged that the pupils nestled in the middle of those beryl irises were somewhat dilated. He could still-faintly-smell just the barest hint of the powerful pheromones that had flooded the apartment hours before, but  
it was more to the degree of when the younger man was experiencing estrus on suppressants than the dizzying, stupefying perfume that he'd grown accustomed to. It was clear that at some point Sephiroth had taken a shower. How he'd had the energy for that the Commander didn't know, but the aroma of standard-issue soap was telling.

The green-eyed FIRST had-evidently-wiped him down; because before he'd fallen asleep, Genesis had felt absolutely disgusting, and now he was acceptably clean. Attempting to sit up was more difficult than he'd anticipated it would be. Making a bed sandwich of himself wasn't as great an idea as he'd initially thought. By the time he’d made it halfway down the duvet his partner had finished his ration bar and was watching him with a curious, somewhat amused expression. In the back of his mind, the Commander acknowledged that Sephiroth was still naked. He could appreciate the view, but he wasn't sure his dick was going to appreciate anything for several days. Craning his neck, the redhead looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

“You could help me you know” he griped.

At the sound if his voice, Sephiroth's eyes darkened, and the wrapper he'd been crumbling in his fist fell to the floor. Standing, the younger man appeared to be caught between tackling him-which, Genesis was fairly certain, might just kill him-and running out of the room. After a few vibrating, tension-filled seconds, the General began to back away.

“Teeth” he spat, before exiting the room so fast it was like he'd never been there in the first place.

A few seconds passed and there was the sound of water running and the frantic scrubbing of a toothbrush. Genesis grumbled something negligible and resumed the egregious task of getting out of bed. When his feet finally sank into the carpet, he figured he might as well eat something. Ration bars were mostly tasteless, but it was habitually satisfying to get something in his stomach after hours of rigorous activity. He was unscrewing the cap to one of the water bottles when the silver-haired SOLDIER came sailing back in. The man in question paused, looking between him and the rubbish bin in which the wrapper that had once held the ration bar lay. Sephiroth then leveled him with a disgusted expression and left, only to come back with a packaged toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. These were shoved under the redhead’s nose until he took them with a distinct feeling of exasperation. Because while he appreciated good hygiene as much as the next person, this was a little ridiculous.

“Senses…” his fellow SOLDIER mumbled as he watched him resignedly scrub his teeth. When Genesis stopped and widened his eyes he growled and flailed a hand. “Everything's heightened, so smell...taste.”

“Mmm” the Commander garbled by way of acknowledgment. Spitting into the wastebasket, he raised an eyebrow. “Better?”

The silver-haired FIRST made a soft sound of assent before making as if to step forward, hesitating. Instantly, the redhead's irritation bled away, and he smiled, a little sadly.

“Are you okay?” The pain that ripped through those emerald eyes at his query was surprising, but not unfathomable. Hastily, Genesis moved towards the man in front of him, lifting a hand as he did so. “Seph, it's-”

“-If you tell me everything's okay I'm going to gut you” the General growled, retreating and folding his arms over his chest. The redhead watched as his companion shivered, his gaze becoming somewhat unfocused as the smell of pheromones increased, despite that, he kept going. “I've killed... I've killed _hundreds_ of people.” His jaw tensed. “Genesis, I'm a murderer, I've dishonored everything I ever stood for. All because I couldn't-couldn’t resist _her_.” Fear traversed his features as memory seemed to overtake him. “What if it happens again?”

“You and Jenova have a genetic mental link” the Commander said quietly. “One that she has control of, it's _not_ your fault.”

That head of platinum hair slowly shook back and forth.

“But it is” he murmured. “I gave up on you. On _us_ , I gave myself over to fear.” His expression was hollow. “And then, this, I _forced_ you-”

“-You didn't” Genesis said quickly. “I was ordered here.”

This-if anything-seemed to make everything worse.

“That doesn't change anything!” Sephiroth retorted, his voice rising. “I _know_ what it's like to be forced, violated, I never-I never wanted this-” He swallowed and blinked rapidly. “I hate myself.”

“Don’t” the blue-eyed FIRST muttered. “Just-just don't.” Closing the distance between them,he cupped the younger man's cheeks, leaned in until their noses brushed. “I love you” he murmured. “Some of the things.. the things leading up to this, they hurt. But that doesn't change how I feel.”

It was very clear that Sephiroth's time for cognizance was limited. His breathing was accelerating and the redhead could feel him stiffening against his belly. The scent of his estrus was starting to become dizzying again and he knew it was only an amount of minutes.

“I didn't honor your request” he murmured raggedly, swaying somewhat. Long, lithe fingers dug into Genesis’ hips and he forced himself to breathe through it. “...Before. When you were sick.”

Against his will, the Commander laughed.

“Well thank fuck for that” he chuckled. “If you weren't so damnably stubborn I wouldn't be here.” Green irises were nearly invisible underneath slitted lids; their focus almost entirely on his lips. Letting his hand drop, the redhead slid his palm between trembling thighs, stroking absentmindedly as he reached Sephiroth's arousal before bypassing it to sink his fingers into the shuddering heat behind. The silver-haired soldier bit his lip, rutting into it automatically...the gesture ingrained from the hours before. “You're not thinking very clearly, apparently”

“If you- _hmmm-_ use this as a reason to- _uhhh_ -..!” His hand was yanked away, and Genesis had perhaps a second before he was falling, knees buckling as his feet were kicked out from under him. He found himself flat on the floor with yards of silver hair practically suffocating him as his partner crawled over him and scrabbled between them before taking hold of his dick. For the briefest moment, the Commander was ingloriously _thankful_ for mako, because he was fairly sure he'd have a concussion otherwise. Pitching backwards, he was favored with an inglorious sneer as Sephiroth sank down onto his cock to the hilt; another of those deep, satisfied noises spilling from his throat as he did so. And could Sephiroth stop being _hot_ and angry? How were they not shooting blanks at this point? Settled, the younger man leaned forward, till they were nose to nose. “ _I_ am _despicable_ ” the silver-haired SOLDIER hissed as he bucked upwards and then slammed back down. “This is who I am, I can't change that.”

Well. Fine. If he wanted to do it that way.

“So, what?” Genesis huffed, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as Sephiroth twisted his hips. “You're not a virgin anymore and suddenly you know everything?” With great effort, he raised an imperious brow. “Honey, you've got it all wrong.” Grabbing a thick swatch of platinum hair, he tugged roughly. “Stop blaming yourself for everything this pathetic excuse for a company does wrong. The only thing you’ve _ever_ done wrong is let them use you. As far as I'm concerned, these last few days were well deserved.” Green eyes flashed and a hand reared back as if to strike him, but he caught it on its descent. “Are we fucking or fighting?” he snapped. “Because at this point, I can't really tell.”

The arm in his grasp remained rigid for a moment before dropping. Sephiroth wilted, dropped forward until his head was resting on the redhead's chest. Relenting somewhat, now that the threat had passed, the older man let his other hand drop to smooth over tension-imbued shoulders. Relinquishing his grip on the General’s hair, Genesis thrust upwards; shivering as that fluttering, desirous heat clenched around him before flooding him with moisture. The silver-haired FIRST moaned and met him with the next forward motion. Keeping his focus was almost impossible, but he did it.

“So you’re despicable” he said raggedly. “So am I. I’ve broken hearts, I’ve broken bones and bodies. But you never had a choice. You didn’t have a choice with Shinra, and you didn’t have a choice with Jenova.” Sephiroth made a soft whimpering sound in the back of his throat and the redhead closed his eyes. _”Choose me.”_

For a moment, he was unsure if the younger man was cognizant enough to register what he’d said. Long fingers were tangling in his hair as the green-eyed SOLDIER acquiesced to his dominance. They found a rhythm; something slow and sweet but still hungry and searching. Pleasure began to coil in his belly and Genesis swallowed roughly as a soft tongue lapped at his nipple before drawing it in and sucking hungrily. Grasping the firm flesh of his companion’s backside, he sat up; pitching them forward so that he could look into heavy emerald eyes. Sephiroth’s expression was unfocused but somehow lucid. There was a wealth of emotion there as long arms looped over his shoulders to thread through his hair. Dipping downwards, the General bumped their foreheads together, brows drawn together with the force of his concentration.

“I love you” Sephiroth murmured. Surprised, Genesis faltered in his rhythm; thrusting hard only to receive a loud groan in response. “I’m sorry.” Moonlight-colored locks spilled over the redhead’s shoulder as his fellow first buried his head in the crook of his neck. “ _Love_ you, I love you Gen.”

He couldn’t handle that.

Lost, the Commander drove deep and came hard; letting out a cry that was somewhere between a sob and a moan. Sephiroth followed, constricting around him like a vice, his voice rising progressively until a river of warmth suffused his thighs and belly. Black spots bloomed in front of the redhead’s eyes as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. Swaying, he reached out with one hand-keeping the silver-haired first steady with the other-until he’d pulled the comforter off the bed and grappled to pull it around them. Then, slowly, he lowered his companion onto the floor; following him directly afterwards until they were a tangle of arms and limbs. Offhandedly-through the haze of weariness in his mind-he noted that the smell of pheromones was entirely absent. Green eyes watched him sleepy as he settled, somewhat cautiously, next to his partner.

“How do you feel?” Genesis asked warily.

Sephiroth blinked, seemed to focus inward for a moment before looking confused.

“Normal” he confessed. When the Commander looked relieved, he frowned. “This doesn’t end anything, Genesis” he said flatly.

“I know” the older man mumbled. “But I’m just...I’m _happy_ to be here, with you. The circumstances are shit, but I wouldn’t do it with anyone else… _for_ anyone else.”

He fought the urge to burst into a mess of emotion as familiar arms encircled him, as he was drawn into the warmth of a strong chest as Sephiroth tucked his head under his chin and let his fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I missed you” Sephiroth murmured. “Losing you was like dying.”

Genesis chuckled wetly.

“Yeah, me too.”

There was a stretch of silence between them before the General spoke again.

“What are we going to do?”

Inhaling, the older man memorized the scent that was Sephiroth, _soley_ Sephiroth, before replying.

“What we always have done” he whispered, already fading into unconsciousness. “What we always will do; do what we can...together.”

* * *

 

**_”There is no hate...only joy, for you are beloved by the goddess, hero of the dawn...healer of worlds.”_ **

 

* * *

 

When Genesis woke again, Sephiroth was gone.

There were distinctive signs of a struggle; the bedroom door was torn off its hinges and the comforter he’d wrapped them in was ripped to shreds. Other than that, the apartment was bare. The bed was gone; the chair the younger man had sat in only hours before was gone...the bedside table had vanished and the fucking _clock_ was gone. The destroyed picture of Gaia was absent, the dusty shadow where it had sat the only indication it had been there at all. There was no closet, no clothes, no indication that anyone had ever called that room a bedroom before. Dizzied, nauseous with fear and desperation, Genesis stood on unsteady legs and staggered into the hallway. It was equally empty. The lamp they’d destroyed when Sephiroth had first made love to him was no longer in its customary place. He remembered-in a frantic, panicked flashback-how he’d begged the silver-haired SOLDIER not to throw it away, to repair it and keep it as a memento.

Unable to refuse him anything, his fellow FIRST had done just that.

The furniture in the living room was gone; the carpet had been ripped up; the bathroom was devoid of anything his partner had once used to bathe and the kitchen cabinets were empty. Desperate, practically blind with disbelief, Genesis had stumbled back into the empty living room to open up the wall that led to Sephiroth’s ‘stash’ only to realize that the triggering mechanism had been taken away. Reeling, he’d crumbled to the cold concrete floor, wondering _how_ he missed it. How had he missed the love of his life being dragged out of his own apartment?! More than that, how had he missed what had to have amounted to an entire moving crew taking his fucking _furniture_ away?! Threading searching, grasping fingers through his hair he was aware of the faintest prickle of pain at the base of his neck. An entryway point; for a needle. He’d been drugged.

_No._

Angeal came flying into the room around the same time the first, desperate howl left his throat. As his back bowed with the force of his despair, the volume of his rage, the dark-haired first threw himself to the floor and wrapped his arms around him like he was afraid he would disappear if he didn’t. He was followed almost directly by Zack, who looked so pale that anyone with half a brain would have expected him to fall over. Genesis ignored both of them, lost to the pale, stark reality in front of him. Because he’d _known_ this would happen, had been cognizant of it before he even stepped foot in this room the night before. That didn’t change how much it hurt; how much it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. When the disorienting, awful truth of it all became too much, he retched. Angeal dragged him up so he could dispel what little remained of the ration bar he’d eaten into the toilet.

Zack didn’t follow, and he was glad for it. Not for the younger man’s sake, but because he was fairly sure he’d have done something violent. When he had calmed somewhat, he listlessly let the dark-haired FIRST give him a pair of pants and t-shirt so he could pull him back into the living room. For a moment, standing there in the bereft space, the horror of it was almost enough to knock him back into hysteria again, but he resisted. Angeal was shifting anxiously from foot to foot, and he gave him a pointed glare. Looking somehwat molified, his childhood friend opened his mouth.

“You should know that Sephiroth hasn’t been scheduled for a court date.”

Incredulously, Genesis lifted his head.

_”What?!”_

Angeal shook his head.

“I don’t know why, but he’s not anywhere in the building. And if he is, I don’t have access to him. None of the SECONDS do either, not even the ones working in Intelligence.” He raised an eyebrow. “You have more connections than I do at this point, but I think it’s safe to say that he’s not going to die anytime soon.” The relief that the Commander felt at this statement was fleeting, because _what_ could Shinra possibly have in store for Sephiroth now? He’d intended to leave with him, to go anywhere.. anywhere but there. It had been foolish of him to fall asleep, but he was _exhausted_. Even now he was so tired he could barely think straight. All he could think about were warm, calloused hands...green eyes and silver hair. “You’ve been suspended” his friend added. “Indefinitely.”

The laugh that forced its way out of his throat was ugly.

“Of course” he said harshly.

“I volunteered Zack to shadow you, he knows almost everything. He won’t tell a soul.” When Genesis gave Angeal a derisive glance, he sighed. “Look, right now, I know you’re having a hard time thinking rationally about this, but you’re not going to do Sephiroth any favors by razing this place to the ground. I trust Zack, he’s a good man.”

“Aerith’s been asking for you” the youngest of them added quietly. When the redhead looked his way, he smiled crookedly. “Man, she _loves_ you. When you died I didn’t know…” he swallowed. “I was there, when it happened. And it was like the earth had fallen to pieces. She felt when you came back, too. She wants to help, she’s desperate to help.”

A heavy hand on his shoulder gave the blue-eyed FIRST pause. Angeal was solemn.

“You’re not alone in this” he said calmly. “We’re here, we care, we love you Genesis.” He knelt. “You know that the only reason I’m still here is because I know how much Sephiroth means to you. If this had only involved you, this whole blasted tower would be burning.”

Gritting his teeth, Genesis bowed his head.

“I don’t-” he muttered, then groaned. “I’m so sick of this Angeal.”

“We all are” Zack said flatly. “It’s not exactly a secret to the men that the circumstances of Sephiroth’s defection are really shady. They’re asking questions. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes up with the right answer.”

“We’re here” Angeal repeated, standing once more. “But if you want to do this right, you need to let us in. You need to let us help you.”

“You’ll get hurt” the Commander said weakly, but he was caving.

“Yeah?” the SECOND next to the door snapped. “Well fuck it, we’re already hurt.” When his mentor threw him a warning look he shook his head. “No, I’m saying it. I get that losing someone you care about hurts, man. But there are a lot of people affected by this, and I’m not saying it’s your fault, but if you don’t let us in, those people suffered and are suffering for nothing. You don’t get to play the selective hero, you’re a hero to _all_ or you’re a hero to none.”

“Zack-” Angeal began, but he stopped when Genesis raised a hand.

“He’s right” he said dully. “You can’t choose who’s better to save and who’s not.” Bracing himself, he stood up. “So we do this” he said, his voice strengthening. “I do this, I'll play my part. We do what we need to do, but once this is over I’m taking Sephiroth, and I’m not coming back.”

The sadness in his fellow FIRST’s eyes was apparent, but at the same time so was the understanding.

“There’s something else you need to consider” he said calmly. When the Commander gestured for him to go ahead, he looked expectantly at Zack, who nodded and stepped out of the room, closing the door as he did so. When he was gone, he turned back to Genesis. “We both know why Hojo had you locked up in that room, with Sephiroth, in the middle of a heat.”

“Yeah” the redhead spat. “Because he’s a fucking lunatic who's going to end up impaled on my sword.”

Angeal looked sympathetic.

“Not just that” he murmured.“ Sephiroth’s...biology.” When the younger man continued to look confused, he huffed. “Genesis, there’s a very good reason why you were in that room with Sephiroth for the entire night. You’re half Cetra, Sephiroth is at least half alien. Sephiroth has female anatomy. With that in mind, and the fact that Sephiroth isn’t on trial right now...” he trailed off and shook his head. “Hojo doesn’t make errors” he muttered. “He makes tactile decisions for the sake of his own regime and his own goals, he knew what he was doing.” The owner of the Buster Sword shook his head. “There’s a possibility that Hojo let you bring the General out of his heat because he wanted you to get him pregnant.”

Genesis went cold.

The dark-haired first was still talking. Vaguely, the memory of him begging for condoms flashed before his eyes.

“Genesis...I think there’s a very good chance you were successful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Hell, where to start. It's 1 in the morning. I have been slaving over this chapter for at least a week. My blood, sweat and tears are in this chapter. And it's basically like 8,000 words of smut. But it's my smut. I sold part of my soul to create this monstrosity. I don't really think it helped lol!
> 
> And so, we end part one. I will be back soon because apparently I can't stay away. To those of you stopping here; thank you. I adore you. Truly. To those continuing, thank you as well, and I adore you equally.
> 
>  **ELEMENT** : mpreg
> 
> The Musical Theme for Nepenthe is _'Dark On Me'_ by _Starset_


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